The Bond
by Randomnormality
Summary: Iris Watson was a normal girl, living a rather mundane life. That is, until the beaten form of a man in a trench coat passes out at her front door. With an odd bond connecting her to the man, she finds it difficult to keep herself in check when she can hardly walk five feet away without being in pain. Cas/OC
1. Chapter 1: Morale

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other, or a common factor that acts as a catalyst for the beginnings of some form of relationship (friendship, lovers, rivalry, family, etc). Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter One  
**_Morale_

* * *

"How can you even say Dream Theater beats Metallica? It's unheard of, much like Dream Theater."

Iris Watson giggles softly at the heated words coming from the older man standing behind the glass display case. Her mess of thick, tightly-spun, black curls were tucked under the purple, knitted hat. Dark green eyes gleam with adoration as pale-pink, slightly-chapped lips releases the green straw as she swallows the caffienated beverage.

"Hey, don't take that tone with me. I love Metallica, you and I both know that," Iris states in mild-humor, her nibbled-short fingernails gleaming with the remnants of dark purple varnish as she motions animatedly with her words, "We are arguing lyrical content. Don't get me wrong, Metallica's lyrics are some of my favorite works, but Dream Theater's words carry more depth and less anger toward the world."

Andrew Macintosh chuckles, shaking his head, "Why do I get into these arguments with you?"

Hearing a small chime at the door, Iris glances over her shoulder as a trio of teens enters the privately-owned record store, "As if I have an answer for that? Anyway, I have to get going. Those pictures aren't going to e-mail themselves."

"Take care, Watson," Andrew responds, nodding with a small smile on his face.

"Back at ya', Mac."

The petite woman of twenty-six gives a lazy wave over her shoulder as she slips through the doors, the bells chiming once again. Finishing off her coffee, Iris tosses the plastic cup into a nearby trash can before straddling her all-black Ducati, a present she divulged herself two years ago. Revving the engine, Iris weaves her way down the main road, heading to her house, about two miles down a long stretch of road just outside of town.

After twenty minutes of leisurely driving, Iris parks in the driveway of a quaint two-story house. Heading inside, she kicks the door shut behind her, shrugging off the light-weight leather jacket and unwinding the purple, knitted scarf from around her neck. Hanging up both items in the foyer's closet, she drops her keys and her wallet on the small table adjacent to the closet. With a soft sigh, she ventures deeper into the dimly lit house, hitting the voicemail machine as she enters the kitchen.

_**"You have three new messages."**_

_"Hey, Iris, it's me,"_ Iris groans, her fingers rubbing at the bridge of her nose, _"Just letting you know we made it to Toronto. We all miss you and hope you are doing okay. You are doing okay, yes? If anything comes up, you know how to get a hold of us."_

Shaking her head, Iris opens the fridge as the next message plays, _"Iris, this is Marcy speaking. Just letting you know, some of your photos have been selected to enter a showcase to a charity benefit for the Children's Miracle Network. Call me in the morning and we'll talk more about it."_

Anything to help sick children, Iris muses as she pulls out a beer, using the side of the counter to pop the cap off, just as a familiar, annoying voice starts on the next message, _"Iris! It's been a month since we've heard from you. Don't tell me you're starting to act like that sister of your's and holing yourself up all alone in that house! Disgraceful, if you ask me. The trouble she put this family through. If she didn't go and-"_

Iris growls, slapping her palm against the top of the machine, effectively cutting off the message. Rude old hag, Iris seeths inwardly. Nursing her beer, Iris makes her way out of the kitchen, inclined to getting those photos sent off. Three steps up the staircase, Iris freezes as a frantic knock sounds against the front door. Slowly moving down the stairs, her green eyes peers through the frosted glass window to see a hunched-over figure.

Iris had not been expecting the beaten and battered man to topple forward, landing half-way over the threshold. Blinking down at the groaning man, Iris barely hesitates as she kneels next to him as he struggles to push himself off of the ground. To be honest, the man looked like shit in her eyes. Blood coated half of his face, clumping in the hairs of his beard. Rips and tears were visible in his tattered clothing, the once light-tan tenchcoat covered in mud and most likely dried blood. His labored breathing plants a seed of worry as he manages to get onto his hands and knees, his unusually-blue eyes blinking up at her slowly, as if he is unable to piece together what happened.

"Good Lord, man. Are you okay?" she asks, mentally cursing her seconds afterward for asking such a stupid question, "Do you need me to call an ambulence?"

"N-No," he murmurs, gruff and raspy, as though he had been either using it too little, or using it too much, "D-Dean W-Win..."

Iris lets out a small yelp as the man collapses on the floor. Nibbling her bottom lip, a bad habit when a big decision pops into her lap, Iris shakes her head and decides to honor the man's request. For all she knew, he could be one of them religious types that don't believe in medicine. Twenty minutes later, Iris winces as she unceremoniously drops the dead weight on the bed, her breathing labored from forcing herself to carry the man up the stairs. Seriously! Stairs were her worst enemy. So violent.

Breaking out of her inward ranting, Iris manages to move him around, getting the dirty coat off of his body. Looking through the pockets for any type of indentification, she lets out a triumphant, soft cry as her hand pulls out an old, slightly abused cell phone. Flipping it open, she sees only a few contacts, one of them labeled Dean Winchester. Hitting the send button, she places it to her ear only to receive an automated voice telling her the phone is no longer in service.

Making her way back downstairs, Iris grabs her house phone, not wanting to use her personal cell phone. Getting the ten-digit number, she plugs it into her own phone before placing it to her ear.

_"Hello?"_ a gruff voice, ladened with sleep, greets her.

Licking her lips, Iris inhales deeply, settling her nerves, "Um, hi. Is this Dean Winchester?"

* * *

Hearing the nervously soft feminine voice, Dean rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he pulls his cell phone from his ear. Not recognizing the number, Dean forces himself to recall if he might have given his number to anyone in the last few months. Unable to come up with anything, Dean sits up, tense and ready for whatever this call might be.

Or at least he thought.

"Depends on who's asking," the oldest of the two Winchester brothers replies, glancing over as the form of his younger brother, Sam, begins to stir at the sound of his voice.

"_Um, sorry. I know it's probably late, and I most likely woke you up, but I...I'm not sure what to do_," the woman blurts out frantically.

"So you are calling me because why?"

_"Yeah. My name is Iris Watson. I live in Boulder, Colorado. Um...a...a man kind of showed up on my front porch. He seemed pretty beaten up. I tried to get him to go to a hospital, but he seemed insistent that I get a hold of you."_

Suspicious of the woman, Dean shares a look with Sam, his brother quirking an eyebrow in question, "Okay? Does this man have a name?"

_"Not from anything I can find on him. I think maybe he was in a fight, probably mugged."_

"Why don't you describe him for me?" Dean suggests, closing his eyes and wishing he had stayed asleep.

_"Um...his hair is dark, from what I could tell. Facial hair. Probably about five-ten in height. Blue eyes. His clothes were pretty disgusting to be honest. I'm not even sure if that coat of his can be salvaged."_

Blue eyes? Coat? Dean's eyes snap open, "Coat? Like a trench coat?"

_"Um...yeah, actually."_

Dean ignores Sam, launching himself to his feet and staggering to the dresser draws in the hotel room, "You said he seemed pretty beat up?"

_"Pretty bad head shot from what it looks like. I'm not exactly a doctor, but I can try to clean whatever injuries he might have."_

Dean tosses his clothes into his duffle bag, still ignoring the frantic gleam in his brother's eyes, and the demanding hisses of his name, "Alright. Listen. Tend to whatever wounds you can. Don't answer your door for anyone, not until we get there. If you have a doorbell, I'll ring it three times."

_"Um...sure, I guess."_

Walking over to the table, Dean urges the woman for her address and jotts it down in the small note pad. Hanging up, his moss-green eyes turn to his brother, who now stands by his bed, looking confused and distressed.

"Who was that?" Sam asks.

"A woman named Iris Watson. She said a man, pretty beaten up, appeared on her front porch," Seeing the confusion in his brother's eyes, Dean glares pointedly, "The man has dark hair, blue eyes and was wearing a tattered trench coat."

"You think it's Cas?" Sam gasps, gaping at the idea of the angel's return from Purgatory.

"She said he refused hospitalization and instead he mentioned my name," Dean points out as he moves to collect their things, "Let's go."

"Right."

* * *

Iris sighs as she twists the hand towel over the water basin, wincing as the water seems to grow more and more red with each wipe of the man's injuries. Thankfully finished with washing away the majority of the blood, she smiles at the peaceful features on his face. Without all the blood, he looked to be rather handsome. Reaching out, Iris carefully brushes the man's bangs bag from his face.

A yelp escapes her throat as an odd, burn travels up her arm as her fingers brush over the smooth skin of his forehead. Shaking it off, she stands with the water basin and dumps it down the drain. Washing her hands, she glances at her reflection. Knowing she wouldn't be getting any sleep, Iris decides to get those photos sent. Making her way to the basement, which she made into her personal portrait studio, with a black room and all, she sighs as she begins going through the negatives.

She is in for a long night.

* * *

A day and a half, of non-stop driving and very short breaks for gas and food, the Winchesters pull into the driveway of a quaint two-story house. Climbing out, Dean admires the sporty motorcycle parked in front of the house as the brothers approach the front door. Ringing the doorbell three times, Dean hides his amusement as crashes and a series of thuds sound from inside the house before the door swings open.

Panting heavily at the threshold stood a petite woman. Her thick black curls seemed untamed and her appearance looked to be frazzled at best. Dark green eyes stare back at them with relief. Dressed in a simple pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeve grey-and-black striped shirt, the woman seemed uncomfortable despite her lounge wear.

"Iris Watson?" Sam greets, earning a curt nod in return, "I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean."

"R-Right. Please, come on in," she replies, motioning for them to step inside.

"You have a lovely home here," Sam comments gently, trying to act normal, despite the urgency of the situation.

Iris blinks once as she stares at him blankly, her shoulders shrugging, "I suppose I do. It's been a long time since I considered it my home." The brother's share a look during her nervous pause, "Um, he is...upstairs if you want to check on him."

Following her up the stairs, they find themselves entering a blandly decorated room. Both of the brothers stare wide-eyed at the unconscious form sprawled on the bed, Dean being the first to act as he ushers himself toward the bed. Looking over his friend, a small grain of hope solidifies within his heart at the sight of their feathered friend.

He was really here.

"Did he wake up at all?" Sam asks, standing a few feet behind his brother.

Iris shifts in her stance, looking around the room, "Um...no. To be honest, he seemed really worn down when he showed up."

"Anything...out of the ordinary happen after you called us?" Sam questions, hoping to shed some light on the subject.

The young woman looks down briefly before nodding, "Actually. It was weird. I left to get some groceries yesterday afternoon. I managed to make it half a mile down the road before I began feeling sick to my stomach. The further I was from the house, the sick feeling grew more painful. I figured, maybe I came down with something."

"But...?"

Shifting once again, Iris rubs the back of her neck, "The moment I stepped into the house, the feeling went away. I grabbed a quick shower, figuring it to be nerves or something, when I noticed something...odd." Both brothers look up at her pause and watch as she pulls at the collar of her shirt, revealing an odd, blackened symbol etched into the pale skin along the center of her chest, "I know for a fact that I never had this before. I remember every tattoo I've ever gotten, and I never had this done."

"Hey, Dean, doesn't this look like one of those Enochian binding sigils?" Dean grunts in agreement to Sam's question, the youngest of the two reaching up.

Iris immediately releases the collar of her shirt and steps back, "Um...sorry, but I'm not very comfortable touching people I've just met."

Sam allows a small smile to cross his lips, "It's understandable. We can't thank you enough for helping our friend."

"No problem. Really. I mean, it was a pain in the ass hauling him up the stairs, but I couldn't just leave him like that," she muses, before clapping her hands together, "Are you guys hungry? I make a pretty decent burger."

Dean's eyes brighten at the suggestion, "Sounds great, thanks. Sammy here eats rabbit food though."

Iris giggles at the look on Sam's face, "It's alright. I think I have some veggie-burger patties."

Iris watches as both brothers polish off the last of their burgers and swallows the mouthful of beer. Not quite sure what to make of the situation, Iris stands to take the dishes, but Sam is quick to offer his services. Of course, by offer, she means he out right told her to sit down and he'd do them. Odd. Being commanded to do something in her own house. Seeing Dean standing in front of the wall display of portraits, Iris tilts her head before making her way over. Seeing him stare at the picture of her younger self with an arm thrown over the shoulders of a younger girl, Iris feels a sad smile tug at her lips.

"That was taken when I was seventeen," She flashes him a small grin as he jumps, "That girl there, that was Violet, my little sister. She was a tough one to get along with, but...a person knew when she cared about them. She lived by the idea that actions speak louder than words. She was talented beyond belief."

"What happened?" Dean asks softly.

"She died, two years ago. It's been hard for me. I always looked out for her and now she's...dead," Iris looks away from the saddened gleam in Dean's eyes, "I would have done anything. I would give up everything if it meant she'd walk back through that door, but..." she shakes her head at the thought, "The dead are supposed to stay dead, you know?"

"Y-Yeah," he grunts out.

Iris wipes at the tears in her eyes, "S-Sorry. I usually don't get overly emotional. I've always been the logical one between us two. Anyway, if you guys want, I have some spare rooms you are welcome to use," Iris sees a glint of confusion flicker in the older man's eyes, "I figured you two would want to be nearby in case something happens."

Dean snorts, causing Iris to cock a pierced eyebrow in response, "You know, bringing a battered man into your house and offering people a place to stay is like the beginning to a really, really bad horror flick."

Iris giggles lightly at him, "Maybe so, but...something about your friend seemed...honest and sincere. I didn't have the heart to turn him away."

Turning to her, Dean gives her a small smile, "Thanks for that, by the way. We...we thought we lost him."

Yawning, Iris stretches her arms over her head, "Well...I need to get some sleep. You guys can help yourselves to anything, just...stay out of the basement. It's kind of my workshop."

Earning a nod of acknowledgment, Iris makes her way upstairs. Slipping under the covers of her bed, Iris uses a remote to turn on her stereo. As Metallica's 'Master of Puppets' filters through the air softly, Iris drifts off to sleep, a pair of impossibly blue eyes flashing through her mind.

* * *

**Alright, that's it for the first chapter and the beginning of this story. I kind of like how it is flowing so far, so please, review. I would like to know what you guys like, and what you think needs worked on. I do take time out to respond to each of my reviewers and I give shout outs to new followers (whom I call my minions). Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2: Sympathetic Understanding

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**_Sympathetic Understanding_

* * *

Yawning as he finally exits the guest room, Dean Winchester finds himself admitting to having a comfortable night of sleep. Granted, he is used to sleeping in his car, or on a cheap mattress. Running a hand through his bed-ravished hair, he wonders mildly to himself why this Iris Watson seemed so uncomfortable in this house. Finding himself on the first level of the house, Dean slips silently into the kitchen and pauses at the sight before him.

The petite, raven-haired woman that saved Castiel's life sat at the counter-top island. Her mass of thick curls were twisted together and pulled up, held off of the back of her neck by a single pencil. Her nimble fingers taps fluently along the keys of her laptop, dark green eyes shifting across the screen. Inspecting her features, Dean wonders what happened. Why did she receive an Enochian sigil branded against her chest? Did Castiel do it intentionally? If so, why? She didn't appear to be anyone out of the ordinary. Her features were naturally soft pale, rounded cheekbones carving her stern features with a permanently softened appearance. A small amount of freckles dusted along the bridge of her nose, some of them brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. She bore a petite build, everything about her small and compact.

Pausing a few feet behind her, he respects her fierce focus on whatever it is she is doing. Looking over her shoulder, to catch a glimpse of what was one the screen, Dean's brows narrow at the sight of an older man, dressed in what appears to be leather. The man, his hair cropped at a medium length and a wheat-blonde color, gripped a guitar in his hands, his lips barely centimeters away from a microphone. Dean knew this man. He had seen a or two picture similar to this one before.

"Is that James Hetfield?"

amusement flashes through Dean as his words causes the woman to let out a strangled yelp, her seated form jumping at least a foot off of the stool. Green eyes whirled around to meet his own light moss-green, irritation shifting into relief. A quick glance at the computer monitor, Iris meets his gaze again and nods, giving him a soft smile.

"Y-yes. It's from Metallica's recent show in Atlantic City, New Jersey," Iris replies and Dean leans over her shoulder more to get a closer look.

"You took these yourself?" he asks, curious as she begins to shift through various photographs of different Rock musicians. "Because these are really good."

A faint blush stains her cheeks, "Um, yeah. I work as a freelance photographer for Rolling Stone Magazine," Dean feels his eyes widen at her career, "I've been interested in photography since...I was a kid. My grandfather was always taking pictures of everyone, and everything, he could. When he died, he left me his camera and I've been...doing it ever since."

"It's a really good shot," Dean compliments. "So, do you have any coffee?"

A small offended snort leaves Iris as she points to the coffee pot, "Never leave home without at least two cups in me."

Dean nods in agreement as he moves around the island to pour himself a mug of coffee. Turning around, he leans against the counter and watches as the young woman resumes doing whatever it is she had been doing before he interrupted her. After a few minutes, she shut the screen of her laptop and brings her own coffee mug to her lips.

"So," she starts, licking the caffeinated beverage off of her lips, "Can I ask you a question? One that hopefully you'll give the truth about," Dean pauses in his thought before nodding hesitantly, "Your friend. He's..." She seems to search for the right wording, "not normal, is he?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, dreading the thought of having to explain everything.

"Look, I'm not stupid, by any means, but ever since he's been here, I've been sick or in pain every time I leave the house. This morning, I could barely make it to the end of my driveway to get the newspaper. I'm not exactly a fan of being kept in the dark, so please?" she answers, her eyes just as pleading as her voice.

Dean sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, "He's...well...Cas is an angel."

Iris blinks, dumbfounded and possibly shocked, "You mean..." She timidly points upward, "angel, as in messenger of God?" Dean nods curtly, watching as her eyes shift to relief, "Oh, well, at least he isn't a serial killer. How does an angel end up unconscious at my front door, as if he's been through the grinder?"

"He somehow got out of Purgatory," Iris tilts her head as a somber gleam shines across Dean's eyes, "I tried to get him out, save him from his personal Hell, like he did for me."

"I'm guessing the two of you had some 'falling out' before he was sent there?"

Dean nods, the guilt still gnawing at him, "Yeah. I might have taken advantage of him a lot before he went dark side on us, and when I tried to help, he was too far gone," Looking up, Dean sees her gaze trained on the coffee mug resting between her fingers, "I sometimes wonder if I could have stopped Cas from getting in too deep if I had just...tried to help before he went too far."

Hearing Iris snort, Dean snaps a glare at her, to which she raises her hands defensively, "Sorry," she says simply, eyes soft, yet unreadable, "I don't mean offense, it's just...'what if' scenarios are useless."

"What makes you say that?"

His anger seems to make her uncomfortable as she shifts in her seat, turning her gaze down to her coffee, "I have a feeling, that you had a nobel reason for being unable to help your friend at the time that he needed it. Besides, even if you could go back, keeping the knowledge of what happened with you, and do things differently, there's no guarantee that your friend would have followed."

Dean feels an odd sense of shocked awareness flash through him, "W-What?"

"If he has someone, someone like you, care so much about him, it's obvious he had some very nobel traits. If that is true, then he had good intentions that led him to make his decision," Dean's eyes widen, remembering that it had been God's voluntary absence that led to Castiel's decision, "So, even if you could have changed what _you_ did, it doesn't mean it would've changed what he did."

"H-How did you come up with that?" Dean asks, shocked at the level of depth perception this woman carries.

A saddened smile tugs at her lips, "I didn't live an easy life. My parents, they wanted what they thought was best for their kids and were adamant about Violet and I attending some Ivy League school, become lawyers, or doctors, or some career with a substantial amount of income," She pauses, turning her gaze away from Dean, "Being the oldest, I accepted it and fell in line, if only to keep them from coming down so hard on my sister. My Senior year of high school, I had a lot of free time in my schedule, so I took some other electives, to give my portfolio a more rounded appearance. I became interested in music, more than I had been before, and I learned more and more about photography. After I graduated, I left home, not even applying for an Ivy League school."

"Good for you," Dean comments lightly, not comfortable with the growing sorrow in her gaze.

"It was, for me, but it caused my parents to come down twice as hard on Violet. Unlike me, she rebelled. She started hanging around the 'bad' crowd, and soon she fell in with people even worse. Two years ago, I got a phone call from one of her best friends. She found Violet dead with an empty pill container," Dean's eyes widen in shock at the thought, "I came home, arranged the funeral and grew angry. My parents, if you could call them that, were _too busy_ on their second, or third, honeymoon. Though, they did send a bouquet of flowers as their condolences."

"Your parents sound like a bunch of dicks to me," Dean states, wondering why parents would put so much pressure on their own kids, but his own father flashes through his mind.

"I agree. After the funeral, I used whatever money I saved up over the years, bought this house from my parents and they've never been back," Iris shrugs indifferently at the thought, "I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't followed my own dream. I'd be unhappy, but my sister would be alive. Then...then I remembered exactly why it would have never worked if I could go back and change it." Seeing the curious gleam in Dean's eyes, she smiles sadly, "Violet was the one to encourage me to pursue my dream. I remember the pride she showed when I left, and I know that, that one look would have caused me to do it all over again."

Dean smiles as the warmth grows in her eyes, "So, you'd never change it?"

"I doubt I'd have the strength to go against my sister's pride. Look, all I'm saying is, now you have a second chance with your friend, so instead of wishing to change the past, just...fix the now and prepare for whatever might happen in the future. You couldn't have been that bad if he asked for you before anyone else."

Dean blinks, realizing the truth behind her words. Changing the subject, he starts a conversation on musicians she's met, while she asks questions about Castiel, his brother, himself and the Hunt against all things evil in the world. Hearing footsteps, Dean glances up in time to see Sam enter the kitchen. Iris greets him with a warm smile, not a single trace of their earlier conversation on her face. Maybe that is why she had been branded by an Enochian sigil. She lived a life just as dark as they did, only without the supernatural stuff in it.

She understands.

"Is he still going on about missing his baby?" Sam asks as he interrupts Dean retelling of how he rebuilt his car after it was hit by a semi-truck.

Iris giggles, nodding in return, "Oh yes. It's commendable to his person that she went in an honorable death. Sadly, the one I have in the garage doesn't run right and I know next to nothing on how to take care of it."

Both of brothers turn to stare at her blankly, Dean swallowing his mouthful of eggs, "You have a '67 Impala in your garage?"

"It was my grandfathers. His most prized possession next to his camera. My father wanted nothing to do with it, but I kept it," she responds.

"I can fix her up for ya," Dean states, causing her to tilt her head slightly, "Think of it as repayment for letting us stay here while Cas gets back on his feet."

"It's in the garage, under a tarp. Don't touch the Mustang, or the Charger. Those are cars I'm keeping here for a few friends who travel a lot," she says, rolling her eyes in faux-annoyance.

* * *

Blue eyes slowly slide open, staring at the strange ceiling above. Gingerly sitting upright, Castiel muses inwardly over the weakness of his vessel. Wondering where he is, the angel of the Lord struggles to get himself out of the soft bed. Exiting the room, he catches the distant sound of a feminine voice ringing melodically through the hallway. Following the sound, he struggles to hide the pain in his body as he staggers down the staircase and enters the kitchen area.

_"The bottle once empty,  
Now too full,  
Contents overflowing,  
Unable to pull,  
The lid is shaking,  
Ready to blow,  
Sanity draining,  
The pace too slow."_

The ebony-haired woman standing at the sink seems to be in her own world, and Castiel grows a bit concerned. He should probably announce himself, but something keeps him silent and still in the doorway.

_"What was once whole,  
lies shattered at my feet,  
the heart of it all,  
broken by defeat.  
Everything tried,  
The best that I could,  
It's never been enough,  
and I knew it never would.  
Love is a sentiment,  
an illusion of the heart.  
Families all smile,  
As they all fall apart.  
Ties of friendship,  
begin to fray,  
Where does everyone go,  
When I ask them to stay?"_

Her voice cuts off suddenly and Castiel watches tension build in her shoulders. Slowly, the woman turns around and deep green eyes stare at him widely. Who is she? What is causing him to feel something familiar? Staring back into those eyes, Castiel recognizes them as the last thing he remembers between the present and his time in Purgatory.

"You're awake!" she gasps in surprise.

"I am. Who are you?" he asks, tilting his head as he examines her petite stature.

A faint blush tinges her cheeks, "Iris Watson. You...kind of passed out on my front porch. Your friends will be pleased to know you are awake. They've been worried."

Friends? "You mean Dean and Sam Winchester?"

"Yup," she says, the word ending with a 'pop', "Before you passed out, you refused a hospital, but wanted to get in contact with Dean. I found his number in your cell phone and called him."

"Where are they?"

"Um...Sam went to fetch me some groceries and Dean's in the garage playing around with my papaw's Impala," His eyebrow ticks slightly at the last statement, not at all surprised by Dean's obsession with human transportation.

"Why is Sam doing your shopping?" Castiel wonders aloud.

Iris giggles slightly, "I seem to be unable to leave my house because of you. Sam said he thinks you formed some kind of bond with me out of desperation."

Offended, Castiel stands straighter, "I would never form a bond with a human without their consent."

Iris remains passive as she tugs at the collar of her shirt, pulling it down to show him the sigil resting at the center of her chest, just above the gentle swells of her breasts, "This showed up after I tended your injuries."

Looking of the sigil, Castiel glances up at her briefly, "Did you feel as though something was burning you?" She nods gently, "Strange. It seems as though my grace formed a bond with you on its own. For that, I apologize."

Seeing the sincerity, Iris shakes her head, "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad I could help." An uncomfortable silence falls over the two, before Iris motions toward a side door in the kitchen, "The garage is right through there. I'm sure Dean will want to know you are awake."

Nodding curtly, Castiel turns on heel and makes his way into the garage. The familiar sound of Dean singing off key to some classic Rock song greets him first. Winding his way around two cars, one a deep burgundy red while the other being a dark sapphire blue, Castiel finds himself pausing a few feet away from a familiar car. At the sight of a familiar figure leaning in to peer over the engine, Castiel wonders how he should greet his friend. After everything he did, did to hurt Dean, and what he did to Sam's mind, he can never make up for it.

"Back already? Please tell me you didn't buy a crap ton of rabbit food-"

Dean's greeting falls silent as he pulls himself from the engine cabin and finds himself staring into the familiar blue eyes of his angel friend. The socket wrench in his hand drops to the floor with a metallic clang, shock staking claim to his features.

"Cas? You're awake!"

Castiel nods, slightly comforted by the familiar nick name, "It appears so. Thank you for arriving here when you did."

"Yeah, well, when a random woman calls me at two in the morning and tells me some guy in a tattered trench coat passed out on her front porch after asking for me, I didn't really have a choice," Dean responds, waving off Castiel's attempt at starting an apology, "Look, I know you enough to know what you're going to say. Don't. What happened, happened. We just...move on."

Castiel is not quick to take Dean's words seriously. In the past, Dean has always shown a trait of bottling up issues and later blowing up because of them. Castiel himself had seen it happen on more than one occasion between the two Winchester brothers, especially during the Apocalypse and their attempt at stopping the seals from breaking.

"Look, Cas, Sam and I are glad you're alright. I know things between us didn't end on a good note, but...trust me, we won't be taking advantage of you anymore. We're both sorry we did it in the first place, and I'm sorry that I couldn't get you out of Purgatory. By the way, how did you get out?"

The angel shrugs his shoulders, "I am not sure. Though, after speaking with Iris just a moment ago, I have an idea of what happened. Or at least who did it."

"Oh yeah?"

"She says that the sigil, the brand on her chest, appeared after she touched me. It seems as though my grace acted on its own accord and formed a bond with her. A bond that is difficult to break," Dean cocks a questioning eyebrow, "There is only one other being that can manipulated an angel's grace, other than the angel itself."

Disbelief flashes through Dean, "You mean God? You think God pulled you out and forged a bond between you and Iris?"

"I do. Though, I am unsure as to why He would choose such an average human," Seeing a gleam of understanding in Dean's eyes, Castiel tilts his head, "You have an idea as to why He made this choice?"

"She understands, Castiel," Dean pauses briefly, turning his gaze away, "She may not be familiar with what goes on in our lives, but Iris, she is wise for someone her age. I think she can help you forgive yourself."

"I have."

Dean snorts in disagreement, "That's bullshit. You and I both know you are your harshest critic. Maybe your Father believes this to be a better way of you redeeming yourself. She can't even walk out to get a newspaper without being in pain. Maybe she can teach you something you haven't learned yet."

"Perhaps you are correct. What are we to do? We can't stay-" Castiel realizes Dean must have already considered this idea, "You are going to bring her with us?"

"Cas, we don't really have a choice. That pain could go both ways for all we know."

* * *

"Angels do not require food."

Iris ignores Castiel's statement as she sets a freshly grilled burger in front of the angel, "Angels may not, but humans do. Your...vessel is human, and from what you tell me, you are not one hundred percent angelic at the moment. In order for your...body to heal itself, it needs sustenance. So eat the damn burger or I'll shove it down your throat."

The two Winchester brothers choke on their chuckles as Castiel stares at Iris as though he had never met a creature like her before. Slowly, the angel lifts up the burger and takes a timid bite. Iris rolls her eyes as her house phone rings. Not wanting to be rude, she lets it go to the answer machine.

_**'You've reached the phone of Iris Watson. I'm either not able to get to the phone right now, or just ignoring your call. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you. If I don't, take a hint.'**_

_"Yo, Iris! Still haven't change that damn message of your's. Tyler caught our show in Toronto and we e-mailed it to you. Kay says if you don't call, she's going to personally fly herself there and shove her foot up your ass. Dude! Kay, no! You can't take my ph- Iris Melody Watson!"_ Iris's eyes widen as a feminine voice cuts through the deep masculine, _"You better get your ass on the fucking phone right this minute! Or so help me, I will-"_

Iris ignores the amused chuckle from Sam and Dean as she jumps up from her seat and grabs the phone, "Kay! Sorry, I...uh..have some company over. No! Not that kind of company, you dirty-minded bint. Yeah, so what of it. No. Some old friend from school had a sick friend, whose doctor said getting out of the city for a while would help him recover better. Yes, his friend is fine. Of course I'll check it out. I'm sorry, you said who?" The brothers share a glance as Iris's eyes widen and a small squeal leaves her lips, "No fucking way man! Oh, you are one lucky bitch. I'll see what I can do. I'm planning on going on a road trip at some point. Alright. Try not to pass out on some random floor. Later."

Hanging up the phone, Iris blushes at the curious stares, "Sorry. My friend Kay is a bit...over zealous at times. Quite the violent one she is. So, you guys were saying I might have to travel with you guys until we can find a way to reverse the bonding?"

The two Hunters, and their angelic friend, nod in response. Iris sighs as silence falls over the table. As her thoughts turn inward, Iris wonders what random form of luck decided to pull her from the mundane and shove her into a world she isn't very familiar about. Unless you count what she's read in books, or seen in movies. Which probably carries very little facts.

Swallowing a mouthful of beer, Iris glances over at the silent angel. Hopefully, this angelic bond wouldn't mess with her life too much.

That saying if her life actually ever goes as planned.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. I am trying to keep canon characters in character. Let me know what you guys all think!**

**Winterfellsfallenangel: Did I ever tell you how much I love you!? This chapter just proves it! Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter so much.**

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	3. Chapter 3: Apologetic Behaviors

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**_Apologetic Behaviors_

* * *

Iris's heart hammers against her rib cage as she races through the thick woods of her backyard. Knowing the area like the back of her hand, she ducks and weaves through low branches as footsteps pound behind her at a distance. A shriek leaves her lips as she ducks around a path and stares at a painted face only feet away from her. Lifting the pistol in her hand, she quickly pulls the trigger as he lunges at her viciously. Neon orange splatters against the man's chest plate, but he continues charging at her. Pulling the trigger again, panic raises her heart rate and without contemplating, she cocks her arm back and whips the pistol toward the man. Hearing a yelp of pain, Iris turns on heel and starts down another way. Pulling the sniper rifle inspired paintball gun from behind her back, she swiftly moves through thick woods. Catching sight of another figure, she ducks down and aims. Inhaling deeply, she pulls the trigger only to see orange paint splatter against the trunk of a tree next to the figure's head. Instinctively, she backs up as the man turns in her direction and rushes toward her. Pulling the trigger, she groans as he dodges the paint pellets. A familiar clicking of an empty clip causes her mind to race with the scenario. Without hesitation, she flips the gun around in her hands, gripping the barrel of the gun and raising it as a bat. Swinging the butt of the gun toward the man's head, he quickly ducks under the intended head-shot and launches himself across the dwindling distance.

"Oof!"

Her back slams against the ground and it takes a moment for the jarring sensation to subside. Opening her eyes, she peers up at the twinkling green eyes of Dean Winchester. After a moment, Dean crawls off of her and holds out his hand just as Sam comes into the clearing, holding a blood-coated nose.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean asks, cocking an eyebrow as his brother wipes the back of his hand under his nose.

"She threw her gun at my face!"

Iris blushes hotly as Dean bursts into a fit of chuckles, clapping her on the shoulder, "Yeah. She's vicious when backed into a corner for sure. She tried to enforce blunt-force trauma. Who knew such a nice girl could turn out to be quite the scrapper."

"Sorry, I panicked. So, when are we leaving for our _road trip_?" Iris asks as she hands over both guns and removes the gloves covering her hands, briefly glancing over at the silent angel that's been hiding in the shadows of the forest.

"Sammy here is going to find us a job, or try to track down Kevin. We are probably going to hit the road tomorrow afternoon. Why do you ask?" Dean questions, falling in step with Iris and the oh-so _talkative_ Castiel.

"If I'm going to be gone for months at a time, I have to let a friend of mine know, maybe get him to watch the house while I'm gone. His shop is most likely closed by now, but he usually heads over to the bar around this time," Iris replies as she steps into the house through the sliding glass door, shrugging off her jacket and draping over the back of a kitchen chair, "It would be nice to have a few rounds with Mac and the boys. You guys don't mind, do you?"

"Going out for a drink? No," Dean replies, Sam agreeing completely, and both brothers share a look before turning their gaze on Castiel.

"I do not have a problem with it," Castiel claims, his eyes turning back to the strange woman he found himself bound to a few days ago.

Dean claps the angel on the shoulder, "Just, don't go after the entire stock of liquor this time."

"Uh oh," The three men turn their gazes on Iris, her face contorted with shock, eyes flashing with nervous disposition, and the apples of her cheeks blossom red, "I...kind of need to get a shower."

"Go get one," Sam states, motioning up the stairs, "We'll still be here when you get back."

The awkward silence shatters as Dean's muffled chuckles are unable to remain contained, the oldest of the two brothers waving his hand dismissively, "Oh Sammy, don't you get it? Iris and Cas can't stand more than a few feet from each other without feeling some kind of force pulling them back."

"You mean..." Sam looks up as a look on comprehension appears on Castiel's face.

Iris shakes her head, shoving Dean's shoulder with a glare in her eyes, "I'm sure the angel will remain a gentlemen. Come on, Cas, I promise to make this as painless as possible."

At the sound of Dean smothering his laughter, Iris pauses her exit of the kitchen, reaches up and cuffs the back of Dean's head. A yelp leaves Dean's lips, his curses following Iris as she exits the kitchen with Castiel in tow.

* * *

Castiel has always been considered many things. He is an angel. Dean believes him to be a dick, or other times he is considered too nice, or too blunt. He is indeed ignorant to the nature of humans. He is the youngest of his brothers, one of the last few angels created by his Father. He was considered to be the best soldier of his garrison.

Castiel is in no way, shape or form, a pervert. Even in the steam-filled room, the oppressing heat surrounding him, he could definitely say he is not staring at the feminine silhouette through the frosted shower doors. His eyes do not instinctively glance over the petite expanse of curves. No, he is definitely not staring. He is merely...observing his Father's greatest work of art. The slim, ink-decorated arm that slips out of the door after the water turns off catches his gaze. Nimble fingers gentle curling around the towel hanging inches from the shower door. The odd black ink swirling around her forearm, clashing with the pale complexion of her skin.

Castiel quickly turns his gaze away as the door slides open. Shutting his eyes, he inhales deeply, realizing he could _feel_ her very movements. In the surrounding air. The soft vibrations on the floor. Everything about her, ever move she makes, every soft sigh of relief, he could feel everything. As though...she is an extension of himself.

"Um...Cas?"

Tasting mint-flavored air brush across his lips, brilliantly blue eyes slide open to peer into the timid emerald of his bound human. Her round face inches from his own, and for the first time in days, he actually looked within. Deep under the pleasant smile and coy, shy gleam always present in her gaze, he could see the age-old tale of sorrow and pain.

"Cas!" the whispered hiss causes him to blink, shaking his thoughts from his mind, "Y-You are standing in front of the door."

An odd feeling builds within his chest as he nods and steps off to the side, "I apologize."

With no real choice, Castiel follows the young human woman as she slips out of bathroom and into the bedroom next door, "Do you apologize for _every_ little thing? No offense, but it's kind of annoying."

"Is it not customary for one to give an apology where it is due?" Castiel questions as he watches her towel-clad figure slip into the closet, shutting the door behind her.

"Um, I suppose it is customary, but there's no need to apologize for standing in front of a door," Iris's muffled voice states behind the door.

"I do not believe that is the reason for my apology. I feel as though I have disproved your previous statement, in which case you referred to me as a gentlemen," Castiel replies, an odd sense of confused curiosity flashing through him, causing him to continue, "I'm afraid I was watching you as you showered."

A faint giggle sounds behind the door before it opens. Iris steps out of the closet, a pair of form-fitting dark blue jeans hugging her short, lean legs, the bottom hem flaring out over black leather ankle boots. A dark plum halter-styled top hugs her small, but ample breasts, displaying an array of tasteful depictions in black ink against her skin. Castiel finds his gaze trained on the sigil imprinted at the center of her chest, nestled above the swells of her breasts. Ignoring the tug that is becoming all too familiar, his blue gaze travels over the swirls of black ink traveling along the expanse of her left forearm. It didn't appear to have any symbolic reference, but she didn't seem the type of person to place something meaningless permanently on her skin.

"Don't worry about it. It isn't like you were lusting after my body," Iris states, grinning at him in a teasing manner.

"It was doubt that caused me to rebel against my kin. Lust would only throw me deeper into blaspheme. Especially toward a human."

The teasing gleam in her gaze slowly fades, the soft smile diminishing to a straight line as her facial features grow stoic, "A human? What do humans have to do with you making your choices?"

"I've rebelled against Heaven. I've killed my own kin. All for what? For a race that continues its own course of blasphemy?" the angel states mechanically.

Iris turns back to the closet and pulls out a thin, leather jacket, shrugging it over her clothes, "Yes, because a human put the proverbial gun to your head and gave you an ultimatum."

"Do not speak of things you do not understand," Castiel bites back in response to the snark in her tone.

Her emerald green eyes flash dangerously as she whirls around, ignoring as the door opens to her room, and her index finger jabs into the angel's chest, "You chose to go against your kin. _You_ chose the path you followed. Do not place blame where it does not belong."

"I am no better than Lucifer himself," Castiel hisses.

"If you are so bad, then answer me one question. Why. Are. You. _Here?" _A jab of her finger against his chest punctuates her enunciated words, "If you are so bad then why would God choose to bring _you_ back instead of casting your sorry ass into Hell with the rest of those that went against him. Maybe God knew you would be one of the few to rebel against Heaven, but not necessarily Him." The self-hatred in Castiel's blue eyes fades as her words wash over him, "Maybe God knew that his absence would cause dissension in the ranks? Maybe He knew it. Perhaps, it was not a test for the blasphemous humans. Maybe it was a test for you. Did you ever think that God wanted to see exactly what would occur amongst your kind if He were to leave Heaven in the hands of your kin?" Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but the petite hand shoves viciously against his chest, "You do not get to come into _my_ house, as a _guest_, and act as though, because of my species, that I am sub-par to your station. Get over yourself and take responsibility for your actions, or Fall like your Brethren. Either way, it is _your_ choice, and no one else's."

As the petite ebony-haired woman storms out of the bedroom, Castiel winces as the pain pierces through his very core, the fierce anger of his bonded-human resonating through his grace. Ignoring the curious and confused gazes of Sam and Dean, Castiel silently follows after the trail of anger seeping down the hallway.

* * *

"So, how is it you two came to befriend Watson of all people?"

Dean quirks an eyebrow at the man, Andrew Macintosh. It had only been a few minutes since the guys followed Iris into the bar, and were immediately introduced to the man. Seeing the distraught veil in her gaze, Sam immediately led her to the bar to get a round of drinks for the table; effectively leaving Dean and Castiel alone with the man. Unsure of how to respond, Dean decides to wing it as he has always done.

"What do you mean 'of all people'?" the oldest Winchester asks, leaning back in his chair.

Andrew, who every calls Mac, smiles as though the answer is obvious, "Look, I've known Watson for years. She was a Freshmen in high school when I was a Senior. They girl is the most anti-social person I've ever met. It's pretty difficult for someone to actually catch her attention. Then again, Watson has a way of making even the harshest of people to just..._want_ to know her. So I ask, what pulled you toward her?"

Dean smiles slightly, realizing that the question is easier to answer than he first thought, "I'm awful at losing people. I never cope the right way. Ask him," Dean jabs a thumb in Castiel's direction, who nods curtly in response, "I don't cope well with losing someone I actually grow close to, and I'm even worse when it comes to change. I never really thought anyone could understand the sentiment until I met her. Sure, I thought she was weird, but then she just started talking and I found myself connecting to her on a personal level."

"Yeah," Mac sighs reflectively, "She has a way of getting people to see the good in life. What about you, Jimmy?" Dean glances over to see Castiel blink at the use of his vessel's name, "Your eyes hasn't left Watson since her and the walking beanstalk headed over to the bar. What's caught your attention?"

"She is...intriguing," Castiel responds, unsure of how to put it into words, "She argues self-doubt out of a person. She seems so timid and peaceful most of the time, but she truly cares for every person she comes in contact with. It is...so enigmatic for a human being to be so selfless in their ideals, to help a complete stranger without so much as a thank you in return. She is...a masterpiece within the artist's scope. She is so well-put-together that no one would notice how broken she is within herself."

"Well, yeah. Watson had always been the logical thinker between her and Violet," Mac states, causing both men to share a glance, "Seriously, I've never seen, or even heard, of her having a relationship with a person for very long."

"You mean, boyfriend?" Dean asks.

Mac shakes his head, "No. I mean, if it wasn't for the fact that I've known her since high school, I doubt she'd even talk to me. After her sister died, and the shit that went down between her and her parents, she...stopped extending a hand of friendship." Dean opens his mouth to ask why, but Mac seems to understand him before the words are uttered, "I honestly believe it's because she has it in her head that if a familial bond is so damn jaded and breakable, then why bother with relationships that holds no kinship."

The silence that falls over the table is broken as Sam sets a tray of double-shooter glasses topped off with light amber whiskey. Iris giggles and places one in front of each person before sliding into the empty seat beside Mac.

"So, Watson," Mac says as he curls his fingers around the shot glass, "Are you going to tell me the real reason behind your visit tonight?"

Iris says nothing as she raises her shot glass, "To those lost, but never forgotten." As all five shot glasses slam back down to the table, Iris glances coyly at Mac, "I'm going with them on a road trip for a couple of months."

"What?!" Mac coughs, pounding his chest as the shock causes his shot to go down the wrong pipe.

Nodding nonchalantly, Iris slides beers to each occupant of the table, "Yeah. You know, take in all the sights."

"You've already done a cross country trip!"

Shrugging, she leans back in her seat as she tips her beer back, "I'm aware, but I want to go again."

"I'm not letting you ride around with three people I don't know!" Mac growls out, protective as always.

Dean quirks an eyebrow as Iris turns her gaze to the ceiling, "Andrew," the man in question falters at the use of his first name, "I need to get out of here for a while."

"So, go back with the others. Don't go runnin' off with these guys."

"I'm not ready to go back to the others, and to be honest, I don't know when. Look, Andrew," Iris brings her gaze to meet the eyes of her friend, "I just need someone to keep an eye on the house for me. If I stay cooped up any longer, I'm going to end up taking off by myself."

"Fine. You call me once a week."

Iris snorts, "Try once a month."

"Every other week."

"Fine," Iris sighs, nodding in agreement.

"Good. Thirty minutes."

"Have I ever kept a call longer than ten minutes?"

"Make it twenty minutes, and it's a deal."

"Alright. Deal."

The two Winchesters and their angel friend watch the exchange as the two friends shake hands. Knocking back the rest of her beer, Iris mutters about getting ready to head back to the house. As the rest of them follow in suit, a hand grabs Dean's forearm and the oldest brother looks over at Mac.

"If I find out she's been hurt in anyway, screw the police, I'll come after your asses myself," Mac sneers, hoping to get his point across.

Dean nods, clapping the other man on the shoulder, "Relax, Mac. She will have someone with her at all times and we'll make sure to protect her if the need ever rises."

* * *

Nestled under the blankets and thick, plum-colored comforter, Iris's form slumbers deeply within the confines. Standing in the corner of the bedroom, hidden in the shadows, Castiel looks over the peaceful features of the woman that had been so completely furious with him before hand. Is she right? Had God wanted him to rebel? Why? For what point?

"You're thinking too loud," Iris's sleep-coated voice breaks through the darkness.

"I...apologize."

"Stop," she murmurs, her arm lifting up the covers, "Come."

"Angels do not require sleep."

Tired green eyes peel open in the darkness of the room, "Then lets pacify the human in the room. I'm tired as all Hell and I can't sleep feeling as though I'm being watched by a stalker. So either get in this bed and pretend for my sake, or I'll find some way to knock you unconscious."

Seeing the sleep-deprived eyes before him, Castiel shifts nervously for a moment before removing his trench coat from his body and slipping under the covers. Iris makes no move to him, nor does he move from laying on his back. Tearing his gaze from the ceiling, he looks over to see her smiling softly as she slowly drifts into a deeper slumber.

"Good night, Angel-boy," Iris's voice murmurs in a breathless whisper.

As her breathing evens out and Castiel watches as her entire body relaxes, he realizes Dean had been right. Iris simply...understands.

But how? Why?

* * *

**Wow! I can honestly say I had not been expecting a sudden spike in reviewers and Minions! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter thus far. I am trying to keep Castiel in character, and honestly, he would be the one to look upon the naked silhouette of a woman showering and not have lustful inclinations...at least yet (again, slow building). I noticed in the series Castiel apologizes for a lot of things that humans don't feel the need to, but doesn't apologize for things that he should, which is something that is (in the beginning of being) addressed in this chapter, and more chapters to come.**

**Onto my reviewers!**

**Kit-kat99: Thank you so much. I do truly love Cas's character!**

**watergoddesskasey: Oi! Lovely to see you my dear! I am glad you are enjoying the story as well.**

**SuzuranCrow23: Yes, I want my character to be able to relate to some experiences the canon characters have had, but not necessarily in a parallel mind-set (same horrific details but not the same scenarios). Thanks for reviewing!**

**mcgonagiggles: No lie. When I read your name, I busted out laughing. Very clever word play. Thank you so much for your review. It pleases me to know you are enjoying your story, despite being opposed to Cas/OC's fics. Yes, I agree, a lot of stories have such...bland characters and I always try to go for normal people thrown into less than normal situations. Hopefully, I continue to appease to your senses. If something does bother, you let me know and I will work to fix it. Thanks again! (p.s. I love brownies)**

**pattibon: Thank you. I am not trying to force the story. I am really letting it write itself. Like, I have a structured idea where the story will head, but at the same time, I leave ideas open to change and new input, so...some of the things that may occur in future chapters, will be things that are planned as I write, not premeditated. I look forward to another happy review from you in the future!**

**shalmarrose: Thank you dear. I am glad you enjoyed the story so far.**

**winterfellsfallenangel: Of course I have to threaten Cas. You know how my characters just _love_ to argue and pick fights with people. Hope this chapter pleases you love. I look forward to the addition of your own story!**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Good. I'm pleased you liked it!**

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**NINETEEN OF YOU! After only two chapters, I must say, I am pleased, and I hope I get you guys to review at some point as well.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am planning on the next chapter to be a hunt, so...WHAT SUPERNATURAL CREATURE/BEING SHOULD BE IRIS'S INTRODUCTION INTO THE WORLD OF ALL THE THINGS THAT GO 'BUMP' IN THE NIGHT? That's right. I yelled at you! Give me ideas. I welcome them with great pleasure.**

**Also, as a side note, people may think that Castiel seems a bit out of character in his response to his argument with Iris, but I disagree. There have been several times where Castiel has argued and fought in the name of his Father, and it is really the few times he becomes angry or frustrated.**

**Leave a review!**

**Until Next Time!**


	4. Chapter 4: Ghostly Amusement

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter Four  
**_Ghostly Amusement_

* * *

"My husband was a good man. He helped people, gave money to charity funds, and tried to help the sick. I can't begin to wonder who would do such a thing."

"Mrs. Browning, is there anything you can tell us about the days prior to your husband's death? Did he seem out of character, or did anything strange happen?" Sam's softened sympathetic voice seems to contrast against the slightly hysterical voice of the woman the guys are currently questioning.

Looking over the various pictures mounted on the walls, Iris listens distractedly as the woman denies anything odd happening before her husband's death. Thomas Browning, CEO of Browning Insurance, had been found dead from Stage Three Lung Cancer, though he had never smoked a day in his life. It wouldn't have sparked the interest of the Hunters, if it hadn't been for the fact that a pathologist by the name of Douglas McKenna died in the same fashion. Listening as Mrs. Browning talks of her husband being a good man, and never having done anything wrong, Iris snorts in disbelief.

"Is something wrong, Miss...I'm sorry, what was your name again?" Mrs. Browning asks, pulling Iris's gaze away from the family portrait.

Staring at the woman, Iris allows a soft smile to form on her lips, "Emily Knicks," Iris shudders at the _ingenious _cover name Dean had given her, "Just call me Emily. I didn't mean anything by it. I just think it's awful that someone would do something like this to such a _genuinely_ nice man."

Iris inwardly smirks as Sam subtly shakes his head exasperatedly, while Dean seems to jump in to her own defense as Mrs. Browning grows offended by her words, "Emily is a bit of a specialist, and has a habit of being social inept," Well, at least it isn't that far from the truth, "Emily has studied the pathology of the human brain and different traits humans develop over time."

"It's easier if you just say psychological profiler," Iris retorts, before turning to Mrs. Browning, "I am sure Mr. Browning was a loving husband, and a good man in your eyes, and I _am_ sorry for your loss. Boys," the ebony-haired woman claps the brothers on their shoulders, "Slim-Jim and I are going to get out of here, see if we can get a profile going on who might be behind this."

Ignoring Dean's snicker at her recent nickname for Castiel, Iris hooks her arm with the angel's and practically drags him from the house. Making it to Dean's Impala, she releases her grip on Castiel and slides into the back seat of the car. As her bound-angel follows in suit, she catches sight of the Winchesters leaving the house as well. Minutes down the road, Iris meets Dean's gaze in the rear-view mirror, and instead of seeing annoyance, she is met with amusement.

"What?" she asks, slightly insecure as she shifts in her seat.

"You weren't kidding when you said you have an inability to lie," Dean responds, chuckling in her expense, "Man, you and Cas are two peas in a pod."

"I thought we were in your car?"

Even Iris has to snicker at Castiel's naivety, shaking her head, "It's an expression, meaning we are similar in the aspect of being forcefully honest. I can't help it though. I never found any logic in lying, definitely not to appease to someone's sympathies."

Another husky chuckle escapes Dean's lips, "Alright. Aside from the fact that you pretty much called Thomas Browning a dick, mind explaining what the sudden escape was for?"

"Doctor McKenna was a pathologist. Thomas Browning was the CEO of Browning Insurance. Why do you think a vengeful spirit would target them?" she quips, as if the answer is obvious.

"You think they were running a scam?" Sam voices, catching onto her train of thought.

"That's what it would appear to be. A patient grows very ill, is told they are going to die, begins to finalize their life insurance for their family. McKenna, a pathologist, manages to locate _anomalies_ that show the beginning stages of the illness. Since the anomalies are not in their medical files, the insurance company could only assume the patient was lying, and thus, their policy is considered null and void. Thus, Browning Insurance doesn't have to hand over hundreds of thousands of dollars to families," Iris points out, her gaze focused on the passing scenery.

"You literally just came up with that?" Dean questions in disbelief.

"It really is the only possibility that connects McKenna and Browning. Though, there is one major problem with it," Pulling her eyes from outside of the car, she meets their gazes, "Thomas Browning was the CEO, meaning he rarely, if at ever, looked over files or spoke with holders of his insurance. So, if some kind of scam was being run, Browning knew nothing about it."

"So, we have to get information on his employees?" Sam suggests.

"Perhaps, you should look into the victims that have died within the past year, who have been to see McKenna. Don't the employee's get some compensation for the amount of policies they make up?" Castiel's calm, gravely voice cuts in.

Iris nods in agreement, "That's what I'm thinking too. That means, we'd have to find some way to get those files."

A choked laugh pulls three sets of eyes on Dean, who grins in a manner that does nothing to calm Iris's nerves, "So, how good of an actress are you?"

* * *

"Alright, Ms. Harrison, Mr. Resse, you said you two are looking to get married by this next summer?"

Iris nods, trying to remain calm, as her fingers curl tighter around Castiel's, "Yes, ma'am. See, James and I travel a lot due to the nature of our work. He's an anthropologist and I am a landscape photographer. Sometimes, his work causes him to go to dangerous areas, and I fear for what happens to us, or any future family, in the chance that he d.."

She hates lying. Really, she does. In fact, she is fighting against every nerve that's telling her to remain truthful. The long fingers wrapped around her own tightens briefly, in reassurance, and Iris blinks in shock as a sudden sense of calm travels along her nerves. Glancing over, she smiles softly at the sight of the calm, blue eyes staring back at her.

"May I ask how long you two have been together?" the woman, Ms. Shultz, asks.

"Two years."

"Three weeks."

Iris turns her gaze to Castiel, who seems to be confused by her response, "Sorry. We've been dating for two years, but we've been engaged for three."

"She did not specify if she meant engaged, or romantically involved," Castiel points out factually.

"That's okay, Mr. Resse. Now, do either of you carry any vices? Do you smoke? Drink regularly? Drive recklessly?"

"Yes," Iris and Castiel say simultaneously, before Iris continues, "I smoke, he doesn't. We both drink and tend to drive recklessly."

Castiel gives her a side look, but Iris ignores it and watches Ms. Shultz nod before asking another question, "Are you expecting to have any children in the next five years?"

"No."

"Hell no," Iris blurts out, giggling nervously as she feels Castiel's curiosity grow, "Um...I think with the way both of us work and live, we aren't looking to have children until we are...ready."

"That's understandable, Miss. Do any of you have any dangerous hobbies?"

"Hunting," Castiel replies.

Iris nods in agreement, "Oh yeah. He has this weird fascination with killing various...animals. His friends have the pelts to prove it."

"What about you, Miss?"

"Oh, I like sky diving, deep sea scuba diving. Did you know sharks can sense a change in water pressure from hundreds of feet away? Pretty awesome," Iris blurts out, "Oh, I also like rock climbing. Base jumping. If I had a chance I'd jump over the edge of Niagara."

"Okay," Iris watches the woman closely as she shifts through papers, "Well, with the way it looks, the life insurance policy on both of you would be about...four hundred thousand dollars."

"Wow, really?" Iris whistles, grinning at Castiel, "Maybe I should do myself a favor and uh..._cut_ you loose?"

Seeing the slight amusement in Castiel's eyes, Iris giggles before Ms. Shultz continues, "Yes, well, in the event of a natural, or work related death, you will be granted the sum. Keeping your medical files up to date would work in your best interests."

"Oh goody!" Iris leaps out of the chair, tugging Castiel along, "Come along, dear. I'm going to start wearing down those breaks of your's."

"Ideal, since I am not the one that drives," Castiel's gravely voice retorts.

Exiting the building, Iris lets out a relaxing sigh, "Seriously. I'm going to kill those damn Winchesters. Next time, they can pretend to be getting married."

* * *

"This is impossible. There are at least one hundred people that carried a policy with Browning's company and had seen McKenna," Sam groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he pulls his gaze from the computer screen.

Iris, her body sprawled across Dean's hotel bed, stares at the ceiling, the debate between the brothers and the group's angel slowly fading out of her hearing as she ponders over the situation. Twirling a pen between her nimble fingers, she hums inwardly. Somehow she _knows_ Thomas Browning wasn't necessarily behind this ghost's dilemma. Consider it an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She's grown up watching people from the outside; being considered perfect throughout the teenager years of one's own life causes many to cast a person out of social conventions. She had been forced to watch people from the outside, taking in little tells of dishonesty and learning everything there is to know about human relations and how people react in situations. Reading people had become a hobby of sorts over the years, and if there is one thing Iris knows, is that if Thomas Browning was so dead set on wanting to scam people out of money, and keep it for himself, he wouldn't have donated so much to charities.

"We have no way of knowing which victim happens to be the spirit," Sam's argument cuts through her thoughts.

Rolling her eyes, the pen comes to a stop between two of her fingers as she pulls herself from the bed. Walking over to the abandoned computer, she ignores the three men seated at the table in the kitchenette, each nursing beers. Hitting a few keys and typing for a few moments, Iris leans back in the chair as she watches several file windows disappear from the screen.

"Is everything alright, Iris?" Castiel's voice calls out.

Nodding, Iris's gaze settles on the single file left open in the file search, "Alexander Carmichael," Glancing up from the screen briefly, she finds both brothers staring at her blankly, "Alexander Carmichael. Died at the age thirty-two. Left behind a wife and two children, the oldest at the age of seven. Worked as an engineer for a major construction company in the area. Had a policy out for five hundred thousand, but his family never received any benefits. His policy was deemed null and void."

"There are tons of people that have similar stories," Dean points out.

Iris shoots her gaze up at the oldest of the Winchester's, "Alexander Carmichael died from Stage Three lung cancer over two months ago."

"Said he had a wife?" Dean asks, catching onto her theory, and receiving a nod in return, "Alright. Sammy, let's go."

As the two brothers leave, Iris sighs as she falls back on the hotel bed, her eyes sliding shut. Hearing a rustle from her left, her left eye pops open to see Castiel sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, his gaze trained on the opposing wall behind her. Feeling the puzzled curiosity that she sure as hell isn't feeling herself, she groans at how invasive this _bond_ is.

"Something on your mind, Cas?" she asks tiredly.

"May I ask why you were so adamant about not having children? Surely a woman like you would show great promise as a mother."

Despite the stinging sensitivity of the question, Iris smiles softly at the angel's compliment, "I'm sure some day I will change my mind, but I...I don't know what family means. My own parents didn't care about us, as long as we fell in line. My sister, she was my responsibility, my life really. I cared about her more than anything else in my life, but...I never viewed her as a sister. Most times, I felt as though _I_ was her parent, other times, she was my friend. I'm afraid with how...screwed up I am up here," She taps the edge of her head, "I won't be ideal material to be a parent to any child."

"I disagree," Castiel's calm voice cuts in, "You are compassionate and understanding. You know exactly how _not_ to treat your offspring. You have great potential."

"Do you know, that when you woke up, and this bond we share solidified, it had been the first time in two years that I've actually felt _anything_ other than nervous tension, as if I am someone else living in my own skin and mild amusement," Iris watches as a sense of awareness creeps in those blue eyes, "It's why I've always been so logical, with the exception of those years after I left home after graduating, I never really had a chance to _understand_ the root of emotional tendencies and the complexities that follow. I can pick apart every aspect of a person, down to their general life-style simply by watching them walk by, but I couldn't tell you the first thing of what family, love, anger or any of it. I respected my sister, but even then I'm not sure I loved her, and I think that's what kills me the most."

"From the way you speak, it is obvious you carry a deep sense of devotion and love toward your sister," Castiel argues.

Iris sighs, shaking her head, "Not while she was alive. Never, in my entire life, have I ever told another person that I love them, not even my own kin. How could I even begin to believe I am suited to raise a child?"

* * *

Watching as the exhausted woman falls into a slumber, Castiel realizes that maybe this bond isn't just to help him, or even the Winchester brothers. Perhaps, his Father sent him to this woman because she needs just as much help as they do. Hearing the door open up, Castiel pulls his gaze from the sleeping woman to see the Winchester's enter the room. Seeing Dean's mouth open to announce their arrival, Castiel raises a hand in warning before motioning toward the unaware woman. Curiously, Castiel watches as an off, softened gleam flashes through Dean's eyes as the oldest of the two brothers makes his way over to his occupied bed. Carefully, Dean pulls her boots off of her feet and drapes the comforter over her slumbering body.

"You have grown quite attached to this woman," Castiel points out, "Do you carry amorous intentions toward her?" Dean quirks an eyebrow, causing Castiel to look over at Sam.

Sam sighs, most likely at the ignorance of his brother, "He's asking if you have romantic feelings for Iris."

Shock flashes through Dean's eyes, "No. God no," Castiel feels his eyebrow twitch in response to Dean's exclaim, "I just...understand her, better than others would."

Realization fills Castiel. Of course Dean would feel some sense of deep compassion toward the woman. She is the oldest of two siblings, who for the most part raised her little sister. Parents who place too much pressure. There of course, is Dean's constant struggle with filling the ever-present void he felt. Castiel knew. Sam, poor guy, was painfully naive when it came to Dean, but Castiel carried a more profound bond with Dean. Ever since the breaking of the seals and the Apocalypse, Dean has slowly been losing himself. Iris, is only different, in the sense that she only had a few years to develop into an individual after escaping her home life, but that crashed down after losing her sister.

Maybe his Father made the right decision. Maybe this isn't just about them. Perhaps, this woman has much to learn from them, as they do from her.

* * *

A strangled scream leaves Iris's lips as the phantom of Alexander Carmichael appears before her. Instinctively, she swings the iron rod in her hands through the ghostly apparition, only to watch it disparate before her eyes. Standing before a surgeon, who had been unable to operate on the cancer, Iris struggles to keep her own rising fear from showing as she keeps an eye out for the ghost. Tension flows through her as a sudden cold feeling travels down her spine. Barely having a chance to turn and confront the spirit, Iris finds herself flying through the air, her back slamming against the nearby wall. Hitting the floor with a sickening crack, Iris groans as she struggles to stand up. Pushing her nerves aside, Iris launches herself toward the ghost of Alexander Carmichael as it towers over the surgeon. Swinging the iron rod, is fades in black and grey smoke once again.

She barely hears the strangled warning from the surgeon before her back is planted on the floor. Ice cold fingers bury into her chest and Iris lets out a scream as the cold fingers curl around her lungs, compressing them ever-so slowly. Struggling to breath, Iris shudders as her veins begin to burn hotly, in need of oxygen. Black spots begin to dance in her vision as her breathing becomes more and more labored, the fingers tightening more with each passing second.

_Castiel!_

__A sudden flash of warmth follows the disappearance of the cold. Groaning at the feel of hands shaking her shoulder gently, Iris struggles to open her eyes, staring in two pairs of eyes, one blue and one brown. Struggling to her feet, she leans against Sam's tall frame, shuddering as Castiel's fingers tap against her forehead. Her frozen insides melt instantly and suddenly it felt as though she could breathe normally once again. Rubbing her sore chest, she flashes her angel friend a warm smile.

"Thanks guys. I take it Dean fried the remains?" Seeing both of them nod, Iris yawns, resting her head against Sam's shoulder, "Hmm...Hey Sammy. Have I ever told you, you make an awesome leaning post?"

"No. Looks like you survived your first Hunt."

"Oh yes. It was so much fun, I'm _dying_ to get to the next one." Iris quips playfully.

The short silence that follows is broken by the gravely, calm response, "At least I'll get four hundred thousand dollars out of this."

Ignoring the curious look from Sam, Iris bursts into a fit of giggles, feeling a sense of gentle affection waft through their bond. Glancing over at Castiel, she flashes him a warm smile, the smile reflected in his eyes, though his stoic features remain the same as always.

* * *

**Wow! You guys are really awesome! Seriously. Made my day! On to my reviewers!**

**PurpleWingedAngel: Aw...I'm so pleased! This is seriously becoming an adventure for me as a writer.**

**Pein's Kid: Yes. Iris has a habit of giving nicknames to various people, so you will see more 'angel-boy' and various other nicknames for Team Free Will.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: No vampires yet, but they will appear at some point (Fuck Twi-Hards)**

**ShiloCoulter: Aw...I am still trying to keep Castiel in character and hope to continue to do it, while also slowly molding his character into more development.**

**McGonagiggles: Seriously, your sarcastic wit definitely caught my eye. I love it. Hell, Sarcasm is my native tongue, English being a second language by my standards. I am seriously pleased by your review. It made me laugh, smile and awww all at once (weird combination). Yes, I always want to hug the guys (seriously, nearly every episode to date makes me want to smother Dean with affection).**

**Grizzly-Belle818: YAY! I SNAGGED ANOTHER MINION! No, I appreciate you taking the time to review. It pleases me very much, and I don't mind long reviews. Yes, the relationship is developing slowly, but I don't like how most OC stories throw their characters into a romance within the first few chapters, unless there is a back-story to an already established relationship. It is rare that people just 'fall in love' at first glance. It's all about small things, things you notice or that catches your notice. So, the relationship is slow developing, but it is in the process. Mary-Sue's are Original characters created for certain fandoms that seem to be too perfect at everything (for example, Iris would already have knowledge of supernatural creatures, not scared or freaked out in the slightest and would've ganked the ghost herself..). Mary Sue's annoy me because they just _feel_ fake when reading them, and I like making characters that are believable. Thanks again for your review!**

**Kit-Kat99: Aw...thanks. Your reviews are so sweet.**

**Winterfellsfallenangel: Of course you enjoyed the shower scene. No, no Ghostfacers...at least for now. Maybe for some comedic relief. You and your odd preferences (Yes, I'm giggling at you right now).**

**Daphii: I LOVE THAT MOVIE! Serious, 'Despicable Me' was soooo freaking cute, and yes, the minions were soo damn funny. Thank you for reviewing, and I am not abandoning my IM/AVGS stories, I just needed a small break because some personal stuff came up and I am in the process of getting back to ToA's and the others. Thanks again! **

**watergoddesskasey: You wear hats? I love hats! On other people. They look awful on me. Thanks again, luv!**

**TO MY SILENT MINIONS! I AM UP TO THIRTY OF YOU SILENT PEOPLE (Exceptions to those who have reviewed)!**

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**SERIOUSLY! All of you guys are awesome! Leave reviews people. Reviews make me happy. Me being happy makes me write more!  
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**Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5: Familial

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter Five  
**_Familial  
_

* * *

Iris knew tension when she witnesses it. She wasn't that far off the emotional radar to know when a relationship between two people is strained. They might be family, the only family each other has, but Iris knew something was off with the two Winchester brothers. A couple weeks ago, Dean received a phone call from a vampire named Benny, and disappeared. Of course, Dean came back, Sam dragging him into the hotel room, and since then the strain on their relationship has grown even more strained. Followed by the creepy, Civil War specter, Iris and Castiel watched in near silence as the situation grew to new heights.

"Cas," Iris hisses over at the angel, pulling his thoughtful gaze from the nearby humans walking through the park, "Do you think you can distract Dean long enough for me to have a chat with Sam?"

Iris is not surprised when Castiel agrees. Their bond seems to have grown slightly more since her first case, which allows for the two of them to be apart for no longer than an hour. Although, with the growth of their bond, Castiel seems to have developed a habit of conceding to her suggestions, but maybe, he understands the situation they found themselves in the middle of. Iris manages to talk Sam into joining her for a drink in the motel room she shares with the angel, while the angel himself takes Dean to the Winchester's room. Pouring a glass of rum, Iris hands it to Sam, who seems embittered and confused at best.

"Something on your mind, Jolly Green?" the ebony-haired woman asks tentatively as she pour herself a glass and takes the empty seat at the table across from him.

"It's Dean. Ever since he's come back from Purgatory, he's acted as though he can do no wrong, and he gets so offended when I talk about Amelia and how I want to stop hunting after we save Kevin," Sam huffs out, glaring at his glass of rum before taking a long sip from it.

Iris swallows her retort of calling him hypocritical, and nods curtly, "And you feel as though Benny has taken your place in Dean's eyes?" Seeing Sam nod, she pauses for a brief moment, swallowing her own opinion with the mouthful of rum, "Well, isn't this a sticky situation we find ourselves in. Dean feels betrayed because you shacked up with a woman you barely know instead of looking for him, and you obviously feel only obligated to hunting now because you are guilty of leaving Kevin out to dry."

"Right. Of course you'd side with Dean, the two of you _so_ understanding of each other," Sam's sarcastic tone grating on her nerves a bit.

"We share common factors in our lives that allow us to understand each other. What I don't understand is you," Iris meets Sam's gaze without flinching, "You are so willing to throw away the only family you have left, for a woman you've only known for a little over a year."

"She has a name," Sam hisses defensively.

"Not to me. Not to Dean, or Cas. We've never met her, we don't know her, and I'd appreciate it if you lose the tone," Iris snaps, glaring at Sam, "I just don't understand why you would throw it away."

"I love her. She knows me better than anyone else," Sam argues.

"Oh, so you told your woman everything?"

"Her name is Amelia, and I'd appreciate it if you used it," Sam snarks in response.

Iris smirks despite the situation, "I'll take that as a 'no'."

Her response causes Sam to shoot to his feet, "What would you know? Did you not up and leave your family so you could follow your own dreams? What makes your reasons any different than mine?"

Iris's compassionate green eyes grow blank. Shaking her head, she drains the contents of her glass before slowly standing up from her own seat, "My dreams were not founded on lies."

"I have not lied to her!"

The shattering of glass sounds as Iris drops her glass in the sink as she rounds on Sam, "An omission of the truth _is_ a lie, Sam Winchester." Iris fights the growing sorrow in her chest, shaking back the coming of tears she had never spilt.

"You are just angry because you up and left your family for a dream you never speak of. What makes you have the right to be so self-righteous in your ideals?"

The anger in her fades, quickly replaced by a familiar hollow feeling, "I am hoping you won't go through the same guilt I have gone through. I just hope, this dream of your's, is worth the potential of losing your brother forever," Iris walks by Sam, pausing at the now open door, "Don't worry, Sam. All of this, this conversation, never happened. It _is_ your life, and you have the right to make whatever choice you want, I just hope it is a dream worth fighting for."

A slam of the door sounds as Iris leaves the room, a confused Sam Winchester left in the wake of her enigmatic behavior.

* * *

Berkshire, Massachusetts. Surrounded by towering mountain peaks, each decorated with gold from the autumn leaves. A resort area, full of lavished spa resorts and aristocratic country clubs. It is the type of place the Winchester's avoid.

"You mean to tell me that some man was reported missing from dinner, and a woman went to look for him and found him dead with a figure standing over him?" Dean questions, confused by how this case was even considered a case.

"Garth says that the eye-witness stated seeing the figure for a brief moment before disappearing," Sam mentions as he leads the four-some up the entrance steps to Nirvana Lakes Resort.

Dean glances over his shoulder, checking up on Iris. Despite trying to talk to Sam, it seems as though the talk (which Dean could definitely hear through the walls of the hotel rooms) affected Iris more than she had been willing to admit. Sharing a small look with Castiel, Dean turns his attention to the resort manager.

"Yes. Mrs. Hastings was the one to find Mr. Adams. Poor dear hasn't left her husband's side since it happened," the manager states sympathetically.

Sam requests the Hastings' room number and the group walk a few paces down the hall. Briefly, Iris reaches out and catches Castiel's arm, causing the guys to all stop, "Sorry, but why don't you guys go talk to the Hastings, and Cas and I will go check around for any suspicious activity."

The brothers agree, each of them knowing Iris lacks the ability to lie, and head up to the Hastings' room.

* * *

"This doesn't seem to be making any sense," Dean sighs, leaning back in his chair, "Two days ago, Eugene Adams was found dead, and earlier tonight, Gregory Hastings as well, both baring the same bruising marks along their arms. What do these people have in common?"

"Worse yet," Sam points out, "The coroner believes the marks appeared prior to them receiving a visit from the person that did this to them. Seems as though this is the work of some kind of angry spirit."

"It doesn't answer what these men have in common," Dean grunts out, taking a sip from his beer.

"Both of them were rich dicks," Iris's voice retorts easily, the attention of the three men, who find her staring at the ceiling.

"Did you get that from all the _research_ you did?" Sam questions, glaring at the frankness of her tone.

Iris snorts with a hint of cynicism, "Research? It doesn't take research to see the obvious."

Dean rubs at his brow, groaning at the slow building of an argument between Iris and Sam. Ever since they arrived, the two have been snarky and at each other's throats more often then not, "Alright. Sam and I are going to go look around the place, maybe pick up something you missed. Cas, you think you can keep a tail on Mrs. Hastings. Iris, stay here and see if you can get inside Mr. Adams's computer."

* * *

"Iris, we're back!"

Dean calls out as him and Sam slip into their room. The two Winchesters come to a stop at the sight of Iris sitting on the edge of one of the beds. The young woman says nothing to acknowledge them, in fact seems to be deep in thought. Rolling his eyes, Sam decides to take a shower, leaving Dean alone with the silent Iris. Sitting down next to her, Dean looks over her hunched over form, arms crossing each other along her stomach.

"Is everything alright, Iris? You haven't been yourself lately."

Iris nods tiredly, "I'm fine...for now."

Dean quirks an eyebrow, "What do you mean for now?"

Unfolding her arms, Iris splays them out, allowing Dean's moss-green eyes to travel along the black bruising marks against the pale skin of her forearms, "I think we have a problem."

* * *

Once again left to try and crack her way into the computer of Eugene Adams, Iris's fingers type along the keyboard. The faint aroma of lavender and sandalwood pulls her focused concentration away from the screen as she looks around. She knew that smell from somewhere, but where? A beep sounds from the laptop, causing her to turn her gaze back to the screen, only to see the entirety of it blacked out.

"Ah, what the Hell!?"

Her eyes widen as words appear on the screen, at a letter-by-letter pace.

**Hello, Iris.**

****"You're the ghost? Why are you killing these people?"

**Because they're dicks. ** Iris snorts in agreement and mild amusement, **I didn't do it.**

****"Do what?"

**You know. You've always known somewhere inside you. I didn't do it.**

"Are you fucking with me?"

**I am not. You know exactly who I am, Mel.**

****Iris's eyes widen, her face growing paler than usual, "Son of a bitch!"

**Daughter, yes.**

* * *

Dean and Cas both glance up as the door to the room opens and Sam enters with a determined gait, "What's got your panties in a bunch, Samantha."

"Iris has been lying to us since we've met," Sam blurts out.

Both Dean and Cas sit upright at the accusation, but Sam doesn't let them get a word in, "I did some background hunting on Adams and the Hastings. Turns out, while Adams earned his own money, the Hastings received a substantial amount of money through inheritance. Turns out, the Hastings had a daughter named Andrea Violet Hastings, who died two years ago of a drug over-dose." Dean's eyes widen at the news, "Iris changed her last name to Watson, after her mother's last name, to honor her grandfather, Donald Watson."

Sharing a glance, the three set out a search for the absent female. Following Castiel through the winding halls of the resort, they arrive to the Hastings room only to find Iris sitting calmly in the chair of a study desk, her dull green eyes trained on the older woman. The noise of their entrance earns a grunt of acknowledgment before Iris flashes them a pair of leather gloves. Tossing them to Sam, who stares down at them in confusion, Iris's gaze never leaves the woman sitting awkwardly in front of her.

"So it's true?" Dean questions, "You knew these people the whole time?"

"What are these for?" Sam asks, motioning toward the gloves.

"Violet was cremated. Those she wore everyday since I gave them to her before I left home," Iris murmurs sadly, finally looking away from Gloria Hastings, "Sadly, yes, I know these people, and from what I learned, I could care less what happens to any of them."

"Iris," Her somber green eyes turn on Castiel, "What's going on?"

"I was led to believe Violet died by her own hand," the ebony-haired girl states sorrowfully, "I never knew it to be different, despite the odd feeling I had whenever I had to tell someone about it. Those marks on the forearms weren't bruises, they were track marks, left behind by many drug users that use needles. My sister had been in rehab and had been released a few months before she died. After she had been released, Gregory Hastings set his daughter up with a shrink, who was on the payroll of Eugene Adams. All of it had been a cover, her suicide, just so the Hastings's family carried no blemishing marks for _daddy's_ upcoming campaign for Senator."

"I didn't do anything!" Gloria cries out, tears trailing down her cheeks.

Iris's dull gaze brightens with fury, "That's the problem! You _did nothing_! Your own daughter, your flesh and blood, is killed by your own husband and you do nothing. All these years, you let me believe she killed herself! Do you know how much I blamed myself?"

"If you hadn't left this family-"

A stinging smack cuts the older woman off, "There never was a family. You took that away when you failed to tell the truth. I should have let Violet finish you, but you people aren't worth the shit under my shoes."

Iris stands up, brushing her hands along her clothes, smoothing them out, as she looks over at Sam, "Salt and burn them, do whatever it is you do," Turning her gaze back to Gloria, Iris shakes her head, "I just don't understand how you can live with yourself knowing."

"I know you hate me, but I'm sorry," Gloria sobs into her hands.

"I don't hate you," All eyes stare at her in shock, Iris's face stoic and void of emotion, "I _loathe_ you. To my _very core_, I loathe you. I hope you all burn in Hell, but I don't think even Hell can dish out the right justice for what you've done." Turning back to the guys, she nods curtly, "Let's get out of here. There's nothing left for us to do."

* * *

"I think I understand now," Iris blinks back the tears in her eyes as she turns to see Sam standing a few feet away from her, "What you meant, about the omission of the truth being a lie. I get it now. You weren't telling me what decision to make, just to make which ever one the right way. I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner."

For a while, Iris says nothing as she stares up at the starry sky, but a sniffle breaks the silence, "You don't realize how lucky you have it, Sam. You have family, a brother that _has literally_ fought his way back to you, been to Hell and back, and he did it for no one other than you. I would do anything, _anything_ to have that kind of devotion, and just...seeing you willing to throw it away so easily really bothered me." Iris brings her tearful gaze to Sam's, "Sam, you are you're own person, and what you do with your life is your own decision, just...stay true. Lies, even those said as a means to save a person from hurt feelings, will catch up, and when they do, it won't be pretty."

Watching as Iris turns to head inside, Sam calls out, "Hey Iris," She doesn't turn around, but she does pause in her steps, "For what it's worth, you are welcome to join whatever screwed perception of family this is."

Even though she says nothing as she slips inside the hotel room she shares with Castiel, Sam realizes what the others were concerned about. Iris really does understand. Pondering over what to do first, Sam turns in to his own hotel room. Seeing Dean exiting the bathroom, Sam inhales deeply.

"Can we talk?"

* * *

"Cas?" Iris's soft voice calls out into the darkness of the room.

"Yes?"

"I'm cold."

Silence follows her statement, but her eyes blink open as her mattress weighs down behind her. Feeling warm arms wrap around her waist, Iris allows a saddened smile to spread across her lips.

"Thanks, Angel-boy."

* * *

**Avalonemyst: Thanks! I'm glad you like Mac. He will be making other appearances in future chapters.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Thanks again**

**Pein's Kid : Hahaha...I thought giving Cas a small sense of humor, much like the dry humor he has in the show, would start to develop.**

**watergoddesskasey : Yes. Thank you again!**

**Wasipi : Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it.**

**EllaMichelle: Thank you so much! I'm glad to hear from you!**

**Kit-cat99 : I hope this works for you, because I honestly have an odd vibe when it comes to Sam's current love interest. That, is a theory of my own creation though.**

**pattibon: Thanks dear! Glad you like it.**

**winterfellsfallenqueen: Damn straight 400K. If my step father ever bites it, my mother will get 400K...if they both bite it, myself, my brother and my four step-siblings split it between the six of us (yes, some of us are conspiring how to off some of the other siblings). I'm glad you enjoyed it love. **

**Wow, up to 35 Minions! I'm afraid I'm too lazy right now to name you all, but you know who you are. Review damn it! Just kidding. Yes, this chapter is kind of twisted, but I always felt like Sam is setting himself up for a major fall with the way this season is going. Seasons 1/2 he was adamant about just killing things that are evil, now he's adamant about killing Benny if he gets the chance? Amelia knows, most likely, nothing about his past. Not to mention, it seems strange that she shows up a few weeks after Dean gets thrown in Purgatory, and has such 'similar' backgrounds and she goes from being nomadic life-style to shacking up with Sam? Something fishy with that woman. I kind of feel like she knows more than she lets on. Just my opinion though.**

**Anyhoo...this chapter leads more to Sam seeing the possibilities of what could go wrong when he makes his decision, as well as get him and Iris a growing connection. Also 'Mel' is short for Melody, which is Iris's middle name. Iris and Violet both called each other by their nicknames growing up. I hope you guys don't flame me for Sam at the beginning of the chapter, because as much as I love Sam, he's been kind of a dick (maybe its because I can really sympathize with Dean about feeling betrayed). **

**Thanks again. Review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Innocent in Nature

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter Six  
**_Innocent in Nature_

* * *

Iris giggles as the cold breeze brushes along her cheeks, slowly feeling the subtle tingle along her face. She loved Winter. Maybe because she had grown up in an area that often received snow by early November. Something about Winter always felt magical to her. Winter had been a time when Iris and Violet could be themselves. Memories of Violet's natural grace bleeding into her ice skating. Memories of the two sisters curled up in front of the fireplace, huddled under blankets and drinking warm mugs of home-made hot chocolate after a day of winter sports.

"Good God, it's freezing out here!" Dean exclaims as he rubs his gloves hands together, "Why are we here?"

"Garth says a nest of vampires have holed themselves in the area, but he is unsure of their exact whereabouts," Sam replies between chattering teeth.

"Vampires?" Iris inquires, even after two months with the guys, she still couldn't grasp that these fabled creatures were actually real, "What's the plan this time?"

"Find the nest and decapitate those sonsa'bitches," Dean states as if it's the most natural thing to do, then again, to him this is natural.

Iris giggles at her friend's words, "Well...I guess we can start with the seediest place."

"In my experience, bars have often been the center of depravity," Castiel states, motioning to several bars lining the streets.

"Well," Dean starts, smirking at the others, "I could go for a drink. Get out of this freakin' cold."

* * *

Castiel sits at one of the many tables in the seediest bar in town, Sam the only other occupying the table. Both men have been watching a drunk Dean and a slightly inebriated Iris attempt to play pool. Amused, and slightly irritated, by the rambunctious laughter emitted by the two players, Castiel and Sam simultaneously show signs of exhausted amusement; Sam with a shake of his head and Castiel with a barely audible sigh.

"Hey, since you two aren't really playing a game, mind if we take the table?"

Castiel returns his attention back to their friends as a group of rather dangerous looking men approach the table. Dean and Iris share drunken giggles before declaring that the only way to take the table from them is by beating them in a game. Odd. Castiel tilts his head as he watches two of the men agree. Dean and Iris quickly loose the game, but suggest one more game, and to sweeten the pot, both of them toss out two hundred dollars. The arrogant declaration in the eyes of the dangerous men fades in shock as Iris bounces away with a gleeful expression, Dean following as he counts the money.

"Hustling people again, Dean?" Sam greets as the two of them slide into their seats, quirking an eyebrow at his older brother, "Did you have to drag Iris into it?"

Dean's eyebrows shoot up, "Are you kidding me? Iris was the one to clean house. Where did you learn to play like that?"

Iris giggles, tapping the side of her head, "Basic knowledge of physics and geometry. You think that was bad, you should see me at Texas Hold'em."

"You play poker?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. When I was living the gypsy life-style as the Hastings referred to it, I was taught the ropes of many pub favorite games. I'm awful at darts. I play Blackjack the best, but they say counting cards is illegal," Iris giggles at their shocked faces, "Seriously, my entire childhood, I've been academically inclined and I can piece together basic ratio statistics in just a few seconds. I can't help that my brain automatically points out the odds and favors when it comes to Blackjack. Oh, if you want to know, I'm really, really bad at any kind of Beer Pong."

"Beer pong?" Castiel and Dean ask at the same time.

Sam and Iris share a look before laughing, Sam taking the time to explain the game. As the night dwindles down, Iris follows the guys out of the bar when a hand grips her wrist firmly. The small yelp that follows the jerking motion of her body catches the attention of her friends and she turns to see the two men they hustled behind her.

"You two owe us money."

Dean is quick to move to her defense, "Hey, you didn't _have_ to play the game. You already won the table, but then you guys got greedy."

As the proverbial pissing contest starts, Iris rolls her eyes and her logic-driven brain makes a quick, rash decision. Bringing her knee up, a satisfied grin tugs on her lips as her knee connects with the man's groin. As her wrist is released from the man's grip, she grabs the back of his head, gripping his hair and brings his face down with his hunched over motion. As his face descends, Iris brings her knee up again, feeling it connect with the man's nose. Brushing off her clothes, Iris turns from the prone figure on the ground being helped by his friend and meets the shocked gazes of her friends.

"What? I told you guys, I don't like people I don't know touching me," Iris states with a shrug.

"Did you learn that during your gypsy days?" Sam asks, an amused gleam in his brown eyes.

Iris giggles, "Mac taught me self-defense in exchange for tutoring lessons. Says 'a pretty girl like you needs to know how to hold her own. Awful things happen to girls like you.' So, I agreed. I'm not a huge fan of violence. Although, I do have some-what of a friend that has a pretty sick, twisted sense of humor."

As they walk their way back to the hotel room, Castiel senses a shift in the air, turning his gaze down an alley. Getting the attention of the others, he motions toward the silhouettes of figures standing outside of a gated door. Sharing a look, Dean suddenly appearing sober, the guys turn their gazes to Iris, her gaze focused on the night sky. Castiel tenses as a gentle breeze dances past Iris and down the alley, a series of vampiric hisses sounding through the alley as the figures turn their gazes on the group.

"Get to the car," Dean hisses under his breath.

Castiel gentle shoves Iris toward Dean and Sam, opting to stay behind to hold them off. As the trio race toward the car, they pick up the pace as heavy footsteps sound behind them. Arriving to the car, Dean whirls on Iris, commanding her to get into the hotel room and block the doors. Complying with her friend's command, Iris slips into their hotel room, her heart racing as she manages to push a dresser in front of the door. Bangs against the door sound, causing her to panic.

"Come on, Iris. Think," she hisses to herself as she digs around in one of the Winchester's bags.

Remembering their introduction to all things evil, Iris comes across a vile of Dead Man's blood. Making a quick decision, Iris collects the Dead Man's blood and other items before holing herself into the kitchen. Hopefully, her logic is truly as sound as her sister always said it was.

* * *

Covered in blood, Castiel and the brothers reunite by the car. As a wave of fear and panic washes over Castiel, the angel leads the brothers up the stairs. Arriving in the hallway their room resided on, an odd sensation fills Castiel at the sight of a vampire breaking in the door, others squeezing in through the hole made in the wood. The race the three of them find themselves in comes to a halt as an explosive sound resonates through the air, the minor shock wave causing a rumble in the building.

"Iris!" Dean calls out, coughing as smoke filters in the air.

The sound of something heavy slowly dragging across the floor causes them to tense before the door opens. Standing before them, a blood coated Iris stares at them in relief. Through their bond, Castiel realizes she is not hurt, but it doesn't register to Dean's over-protective tendencies as he immediately begins looking her over for wounds.

"I'm fine," Iris states as she shoves his hands away from her body.

"You're covered in blood!"

Iris rolls her eyes, though it seems to be more out of exasperated affection, as she motions for them to enter the room, "I'm not sure how long they can stay like that, so make it quick."

Entering the room, the horde of five or more vampires lay sprawled on the ground. Black veins flush against their pale flesh, blood-lustful eyes drowned in pain. Various puncture wounds appear on their extremities and their torsos.

"I found some silver pellets in someone's bag. I coated them in Dead Man's blood and fashioned them to the edge of a glass container from the kitchen," All eyes turn on Iris, "I made the proverbial Molotov Cocktail for vampires." Seeing the blank eyes blink at her, she shifts nervously, "What? You guys never fashioned a bomb before?"

"Assbutt here did," Dean comments, motioning to Castiel, who seems rather bashful at the memory of his misconception of human slurs, "Torched an archangel."

"Well...have at it," Iris instructs, motioning toward them and then the prone vampires.

* * *

"Uh...Cas?"

Pulling his thoughts from the depths of his mind, Castiel turns toward his bound human and pauses in his response at the sight of her towel-clad body, "Is something wrong?"

"My back feels pretty cut up, and I think I have some glass along my shoulder blades. Can you?" She trails off, motioning to the first aid kit.

Nodding stiffly, he watches as she tightens her grip on the towel as she lays face down on the bed. Looking over her back, he realizes she had been minimally injured. Small shards of glass stuck out of her skin. Most of them appeared to be superficial wounds, regardless he set to work removing them. As the last blood-coated glass piece falls onto a plate, Castiel watches wide-eyed as the wounds begin to sew themselves back together, a muted bluish-white glow appearing beneath her skin in a single, quick flash.

"My Grace," Castiel murmurs, his finger trailing over the healed, but still tender cuts. "Your body has stored my Grace." Hearing no response of shock, Castiel brings his eyes to the back of her head, "You knew?"

"Not really. I knew I've felt different. I knew this bond we have was forged by your Grace. I didn't know until just a while ago," Castiel's confusion must have flowed through their bond as she lets out a sigh, "Before I set off the little vampire surprise, one of them said I smelled deliciously pure, as though I was filled with the ambrosia of the Gods."

"This...is a development we did not consider," Castiel comments, "We can not be sure what my Grace will do to you. It could very well place you in significant danger."

Iris pushes herself off of the bed and slips into the bathroom. A few seconds pass and she enters the room, dressed comfortably before she slides back into the bed.

"I am sorry," Castiel states in the silence of the room, "I fear that though my Father may have known what He was doing, He has placed you in harms way by doing so."

"Relax, Angel-boy. No need to get your feathers ruffled," Iris snarks playfully, "At least we know it could be a possibility that I'd never be possessed by some demon. For all you know, your Grace could save my life some day."

"Iris?"

"Yes, Angel-boy?"

"May I join you?"

Iris smiles softly to herself, realizing it has become as much of a routine for him as it has for her. Giving a small noise of agreement, her eyes slide shut as she is encased in warmth. Inhaling the indescribable scent of the man behind her, she drifts into her slumber with a small smile on her face.

* * *

A squeal of unbridled joy pulls Castiel from his meditative state. Sitting upright in the bed, he sees Iris racing around the room, pulling on her jacket as she simultaneously tries to shove her feet into her boots. He doesn't get a chance to speak as the woman practically flies out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Quickly following, Castiel is met by Dean and Sam, both looking tired from being woken up so early.

Finding Iris in the parking lot, the three men fall silent as the woman before them twirls on spot, flakes of pure white snow kissing her face as they gently fall from the sky. Even as Dean grumbles about the cold, Castiel sees the softened affection in the human's gaze as he watches their female companion dance her way across snow-coated ground.

"Guys! Come on! It's snowing!" Iris shouts, waving her arms above her head, twirling once again.

Dean, while being the oldest, grins widely with childish abandon as he slips back into his room to get dressed. Sam and Castiel watch as a rather vicious snowball fight starts between the two childish humans below.

"You'd think they would act a little more like their ages," Sam comments.

Castiel opens his mouth to respond when a snowball connects with the side of Sam's face, a responsive burst of laughter echoing from Dean as he congratulates Iris on her aim. Watching as Sam argues that he wants no part of it, Castiel steps off to the side as a volley of snowballs launches at the youngest Winchester. Laughter fills the air as Sam's irritation bursts and he soon joins his brother and their friend in a three-way snowball fight. Soon, shouts of 'traitor' and 'truce' and 'back-stabbing bitch' pierces the early morning air and Castiel feels a small smile tug at his lips. It's been a long time since the two Winchesters had any fun, and Castiel is pleased he is able to witness it.

His thoughts break as something cold slams into his face, Dean letting out another resounding laugh, "Oh damn! She nailed another one!"

"That was you, traitor!"

"Prove it!"

"My aim sucks!"

"I bet it's not the only thing that sucks!"

A shriek of indignation sounds from Iris as she drops the snowball from her hand and launches herself at the oldest Winchester. Brushing off the white, frosted water, Castiel shakes his head.

She really is just what they need.

* * *

**Alright, this is slightly short, but I wanted a light-hearted moment between the group, and show the change in Castiel's disposition toward Iris. It's slow, and minor, but it is a start. Castiel isn't going to just jump in and join the 'reindeer' games, but instead watch from afar, observing human nature as he seems to enjoy doing throughout the show. He also isn't going to have a real heart-felt moment with Iris yet, because they are still searching for a way to get rid of the bond so Iris can go back to her life in Boulder, Colorado.**

**This is also a special treat for my reviewers. Really, you guys make me push myself for more ideas. I was explaining this to a friend of mine, that I couldn't understand why Cas can come up with a Molotov Cocktail to roast an archangel, but the guys never used the idea on any other creatures. That in turn gave me the realization as to why. THEY'RE MEN! They'd rather hack and slash their way through nests of vampires. So, I figured it would take a woman's touch and brain to come up with the vampire cocktail.**

**Pein's Kid: Thanks so much!**

**Mrs Tom Riddle: I'm glad you are enjoying it! Yay for another Minion!**

**watergoddesskasey: Thanks!**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Thank you!**

**EllaMichelle: I know right? Thanks for your review! It's just Sam's attitude since Dean's return has grated on my nerves.**

**Kit-cat99: Lol...it's like the obvious. Sam gets caught with bad women, and Dean always dies in some manner. Amelia definitely rubs me the wrong way and I can't put my finger on why.**

**winterfellsfallenqueen: Seriously? Asgardian-Shakespearean inspired review? I laughed. I almost envisioned you throwing your computer/phone down and saying 'another one!" lol...You amuse me greatly, luv!**

**UP TO 40 MINIONS! You guys make me proud. I will get you guys to crack and review at some point.**

**Look forward to reviews later!**

**Until Next Time!**


	7. Chapter 7: Thankful Curiosity

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

**P.S. THIS IS ANOTHER NON-HUNT MOMENT! This is a very important moment, as the Winchester's will come face-to-face with Iris's friends! Light-hearted moment, but there are serious key elements that explains Iris's personality and other traits. Humorous moments to follow!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
**_Thankful Curiosity_

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Iris asks, looking over at her angelic companion.

Castiel's thoughtful gaze softens slightly as he gazes at his young charge, "No. While I am sure it will be quite the night, I want to seek out some old scriptures that surround Enochian Binding Sigils."

Smiling in response, Iris nods, "If that's what you want. Um.." Her body shifts with the familiar nervous disposition she showed when they first met, "...stay safe, will ya?"

"You as well," Castiel retorts.

Iris opens her mouth, but pauses as she realizes she has no idea what to say next. A nervous giggle escapes her lips as she rubs the back of her neck before she claps him on the shoulder briefly. Stepping away from the angel, she jumps as he disappears, as though he has never been there to begin with. Shaking her head, she turns to the Winchester brothers and flashes them a gentle grin.

"You two ready to go?" she asks, tilting her head as they begin the short trek from the parking lot to the building.

"I guess. Though, I'm wondering why a bar is open on Thanksgiving," Sam states as they approach the front of the bar labeled, _'Paradise Lounge'_.

Iris giggles, "It's open to allow people to give thanks to the three greatest things life has to offer," Seeing their blank faces, she ticks off a finger for each, "Family. Friends. Booze. Lots of booze," Iris shrugs as she drops her hand, "The Baker's keep it open Thanksgiving night for the people that don't really have families to go back to, or have no desire to return home."

"Sounds good to me," Dean states, his grin wide as they enter the bar, instantly greeted by the soft melodies of 'Queen'.

The brothers follow Iris to the bar, glancing around surprised by the number of patrons. Taking the stools next to her, they watch as she leans over the bar, waving her hand briefly. Catching the bartender's eye, the brothers grow curious as a gleam of pleasant recognition flickers in the man's gaze before he makes his way over to them.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to swing by," the man's dark brown eyes reflects a gentle adoration toward their female companion, "Haven't seen you around here in a few years."

"Family issues," Iris responds curtly, receiving a nod of understanding in return, before she motions to the brothers, "These are my recently acquainted friends, Dean and Sam."

The man grants them a welcoming smile, "Nice to meet you guys. I'm Jackson Baker. What can I get you all?"

Placing their orders, Sam waits as the man makes the drinks, before he asks, "So, how long have you known Iris?"

Jackson seems amused by the question, "Oh, I've known her and the gang since they stopped here about...five years ago?" Jackson glances over at Iris, who nods in agreement, "Crazy bunch of kids they were."

Iris giggles slightly, taking a sip from the drink placed in front of her before she says, "Speaking of the gang, are they here?"

"Don't tell me these are the two guys you've been traveling with?" an amused voice questions from behind the trio.

As each of them turn, they are met with humorous blue eyes. The young man's chestnut brown hair appears windswept and unkempt, as though he is constantly in motion. Unlike the trio, he is dressed in casual black slacks and a dark-blue button-down, the long sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows.

"Is that a problem for you?" Dean retorts, glaring at the amused guy.

Iris rolls her eyes as she nudges Dean, "Relax. Guys, this is Tyler Morgan. Tye, this is Dean and Sam. Since I am here, alive, you can assume I am perfectly safe with them."

Tyler tilts his head for a brief moment before shrugging his shoulder, "Always so cynical, aren't you?"

"Cynicism is to me as being a pain in the ass is to you," Iris replies with a playful tug along her lips.

"Lovely analogy, dear," Tyler responds, pausing as he looks at her in a more scrutinizing manner, "Hm...well, you definitely seem different."

"Is that a good thing?" she asks, amused by the man's antics.

"The jury is still out on that one, but when it comes back, you'll be the first to know," Tyler states, patting the top of her head, "Though, it is nice to see you are alright. Kay and the guys have done nothing but worry over you since you went MIA."

"Thanks, Tye. Are they here?" she asks, motioning to the brothers, who watched the exchange with mild amusement. "I want to introduce the new friends to the old."

Tyler points her in the direction of a large horseshoe-shaped booth currently occupied by four laughing friends. Parting ways with the auburn-haired guy, Iris leads the guys over to the table. Dean and Sam pause behind her as she stopped a few feet from the table, clearing her throat loud enough to grab the laughing group's attention. Four sets of eyes glance up at the same time, slowly widening before a squeal emits from the only female amongst the group. Iris braces herself as the other woman launches herself over the table, embracing her tightly.

"Iris!" "Mel!" "Licious!"

The three guys stand from the table to greet Iris with warm, welcoming smiles. Silently, the Winchester's watch as their friend stands at the center of a group hug, laughs and a few relieved sighs emitting from them. Feeling as though someone is starting at them, Sam turns his gaze from the trio of guys asking a whirlwind of questions toward Iris and finds himself staring into a pair of light hazel-grey eyes. The squealing woman appears to be taller than Iris, and her body carried more curves than their petite friend. Her deep, rich chocolate brown hair drapes over her shoulders in multiple layers, purple and green decorating the woman's hair in sporadically placed streaks. He watches as her eyes brighten with curiosity as they scrutinize over himself and his brother before a devilish grin spreads across her lips.

"Are these the guys you've been traveling with?" the multi-colored-haired woman asks grinning over in Iris's direction, "Because they look as though they are begging to be devoured."

Iris, extracting herself from the guys, chuckles before shoving the other woman playfully, "Back off, woman. These are my friends, Dean and Sam. Dean, Sam, these are my old friends, Christopher Carson," the ebony-haired man sporting a silver hoop through the bottom of his lip nods, "David Zane," the grinning blonde-haired man gives them a mocking salute, "Matthew Tyx," the other blonde-haired man gives a curt nod, his eyes covered by a pair of reading glasses, "and this crazy bint, is Kaylin Nyes."

"Nice to finally meet you guys," Chris states, reaching out to exchange handshakes, "We've all be curious about Iris's new friends."

"Yeah, well, we've been curious about her old one's," Sam retorts, earning understanding chuckles from the guys.

Kaylin quirks an eyebrow, "I thought there were three of you?"

"Our friend had to leave for his follow-up appointment that's scheduled tomorrow," Dean replies, years of practice making it easy to keep with the story of their angel having been sick.

"Well, come on, then. Join us," David offers before standing to his full height, towering near Sam's own height, "Yo! Jackson! Send us a few rounds will ya!"

As they all squeeze into the booth, Sam motions toward them, "So what is it you guys do for a living?"

"We're in a band," Matt responds, "Chaotic Melodies."

Both of the Winchester brothers turn their gazes on their friend, who smiles sheepishly as Dean asks, "You have a band named after you?"

"Are you kidding? Mel acted as a manager of sorts for us," David states, giving a handsome grin to the waitress as she sets down a tray of shot glasses, each matched with a beer, "Hell, she helped Carnage here get his lyrics from thought and onto paper. Of course, Tye now kind of took over managing us when Iris had to go."

"Carnage?" the brothers echo curiously.

"Stage names," Iris states, "Chris is known as Chaos in Carnage, or just Carnage. David is DZ Asterous Chaos. Matt is Matt Tik U'Lus Chaos. Or just Tik. Kay here is Harm On Eyes Chaos. They're all play on names."

"How is your's a play on your name?" Sam asks Kaylin.

The woman grins responsively, "My middle name is Harmony and my last name is Nyes. Besides, Mel, you missed your name."

At Dean's inquiring gaze, Iris flushes slightly, "They called me Mel Licious Chaos."

The Winchester brothers laugh, before Matt lifts up a shot glass, "A toast. To Family. To Friends. To Life!"

Iris barely gets a chance to put the empty shot glass down on the table before Tyler appears at the table, grabbing her arm and pulling her with him. Dean follows the pair with his eyes as Tyler pulls his friend to the dance floor, a slow song playing. Seeing Iris smiling, Dean feels one of his own pull on his lips.

"So, Iris and Tyler seem close," Dean points out.

The entire group snorts, "Are you kidding? This is them being civilized."

"What is it when they aren't civilized?" Sam asks.

Hearing the round of muffled laughs, the brothers share a glance before Kaylin replies, "Ever since Tyler became a part of the group, he's been dead set on getting Iris to crack. I mean, you wouldn't believe the amount of prank wars that happened during the two months. Of course, Tye isn't stupid enough to pull another one like that."

"What did he do?" Dean asks, leaning forward with a grin on his face.

Chris chuckles slightly, "Tied a marionette clown puppet to the ceiling fan in her room, hanging it by its neck. Iris, who hates clowns, panicked, fell out of her bed, raced to get out of her hotel room and there he stood, performing a perfected Tim Curry impression," Even Dean had to cringe at that one.

"So, of course, Iris freaks out and Tye found his face in the midst of a brief, passionate meeting with her cell phone," Matt adds, chuckling at the memory.

Sam nudges his own nose in memory, "She does have a habit of throwing things when caught off guard. So, I've been meaning to ask something, but it never seems the right time," Hearing the groan from his brother, Sam rolls his eyes, "Has Iris always been so...perfect?"

Every single band member cringes at the word, sharing a secret look between each other, before Chris spoke, "Unfortunately yes, but it hasn't always been sunshine and daisies for her because of it. During our school years, everyone knew of Iris. She had the perfect life, excelled at every academic class without ever trying, had the perfect clothes and it rubbed a lot of people the wrong way."

Kay nods in agreement, "Hell, we kind of forced ourselves on her during Senior year. She starting taking more electives, and we were curious about her no doubt. She would hardly respond to us, and when she did, it was short and to the point. It wasn't until an argument between her and Violet happened that it caused her to open her eyes to what their parents were doing."

"Yeah, it took awhile for Iris to start opening up more, and we just...never left her side while in school. When our band hit big in the area and we were asked to do a few underground tours, we suggested her to come with us," David continues, smiling faintly, "We were all kind of surprised she agreed in the end."

"If that's so, then why does she still seem to act that way?" Sam asks, genuinely wondering about their friend's past.

Matt shrugs, "It's kind of like telling a soldier not to be a soldier. The Hastings pretty much conditioned Iris to be the perfect, prodigal child for so long that it became a trait she was stuck with. Say for instance, your parents taught you skills surrounding a certain area of study," Both brothers immediately thought of their father and being trained as Hunters, "After so long of learning and being consumed by those skills, later down the road you find it impossible not to continue in the manner that has been ingrained in your head for so long."

It was like someone asking them not to be Hunters, Sam muses inwardly. Even though she doesn't have to act like that anymore, it had been driven so much into her that she can't escape the traits she adopted. Feeling a sense of sympathetic understanding, Sam smiles to himself.

"Though, she does seem different now," Kay states suddenly, gaining the attention of both brothers, "She smiles more. Maybe you guys and your friend are better for her than we were."

Sam smiles in response, "Hopefully we can help her in the ways she has helped us."

"Ah," Chris gasps in sarcastic understanding, "The Iris Watson logic, yes? Trust me, that girl is logical as all Hell, but she definitely lacks emotional integrity. I think the day she got that phone call from her sister's friend was the only time I've seen her cry in the six years we've all spent together."

Dean understands Iris in a manner different than others and decides to speak up on her behalf, "She may not show it much, but I think she understands the...uh...emotional complexities of humans more than said emotional humans."

Kay lifts up her beer bottle in concurrence, "Ha! Told ya, Carnage. I've been trying to tell them just to let her develop into her own person. She's kind of new to the idea of being less than perfect. I mean, have you seen her aim when throwing projectiles? Sucks major ass."

* * *

Sitting at the booth, Iris watches as the Winchester brothers and her old friends talk about various topics. Tyler, carrying a tray of shots, pauses by the table and sets them in front of everyone. Holding up his own, he clears his throat, gaining silence over the table.

"To Sam and Dean. Welcome to this little ball of crazy town. May your attempt at cracking the impenetrable Iris Watson be in your favor. Though, fair warning," Blue eyes stares sharply at the two brothers, "If anything is to ever happen to Iris, may the wrath of God rain down upon you!"

Dean snorts, a few of the others echoing the sentiment, before every occupant at the table raises their shot glasses. Iris slowly swallows her shot, watching as moss-green and dark hazel-brown eyes widen before the shots are spat all over the table. At the sight of their antics as they search for something cold to drink, Iris doesn't attempt to hide her giggles as she fishes out a twenty dollar bill and hands it over to Tyler.

"The Jester strikes again, no?" Chris hums as he watches the exchange.

Tyler tips his head, as though he wore an invisible hat, and grins, "I think we can all agree it goes against my nature to meet two, such lovely gentlemen and not welcome them properly."

"Ugh, what was in that?" Sam groans after downing the contents of his beer bottle.

"Tabasco sauce."

"Iris," Dean huffs out, glaring slightly at the amused woman, "Your friends are evil."

Kay snorts, "He sure as hell isn't an angel," The rest of the band members laugh at the thought, "Tye here doesn't have a nice bone in his body. Though, consider yourself lucky. He tends to prank the people he likes."

* * *

Iris giggles as she tries to steer the two brothers into their room. Sam, apparently far more drunk than his brother, is dropped unceremoniously on his bed, while Dean manages to kick off his boots before his eyes slide shut. Running the back of her fingers over both of their cheeks, she smiles softly at the two men, slowly drifting out of consciousness.

They had no idea how thankful she really is for having met them.

Closing the door to their room with a barely audible click, Iris enters her own room. Flipping on her light, she jumps at the sight of Castiel sitting at one of the tables, a few, old leather-bound books set on top of the table. Slipping out of her jacket and her jeans, Iris slides under the warm comforter, slowly finding her own mind drift into the depth of her subconscious.

"N'ght, Angel-boy," she murmurs after vaguely feeling a familiar warmth against her back.

* * *

**Thanks for all those who have reviewed! I am so happy with you all.**

**XXBlackfireXX : Thank you so much!  
**

**watergoddesskasey : Thanks dear!**

**Mrs Tom Riddle : I liked the idea of the snowball fight.**

**s0cialghost : Thanks a lot!**

**bleachcreep21 : Yes, I understand where you are coming from and I am flattered by your constructive criticism. I hope some of the background information fills in the reasons behind Iris's character. This story is about her, not only helping the guys out, growing into an individual after so many years of her parents hindering that process in early development. I've known kids like her at school, being outcasted or talked down at because they are forced to be certain ways by the parents and never had a chance to develop their own personality. Thank you, sincerely, and I am glad you've liked the story.**

**Kit-cat99 : lol...yes, I found it amusing as I was writing it.**

**EllaMichelle : Thank you!**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin : Yes! I loved the idea behind the make-shift bomb. Thanks dear!**

**winterfellsfallenqueen : It's cause I'm evil like that! lol...You can have your damn snow, I miss my warmth. Your reviews always make me laugh.**

**UP TO FORTY-NINE MINONS! I'm so pleased by you all!  
**

**Until next time!  
**

**YAY! CAS COMES BACK IN THIS WEEK'S EPISODE! -seriously squealed like a weird girly version of my not so girly self-  
**


	8. Chapter 8: Fading Insecurities

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

**P.S. THIS IS ANOTHER NON-HUNT MOMENT! I am hoping to tie in the chapter following this one into tonight's Episode. This is a moment between Iris and Castiel, as they try to find any information about the bond placed on them.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Eight  
**_Fading Insecurities  
_

* * *

"Are you sure they won't need our help?" Iris asks without looking up from the page of the tattered leather-bound book.

"They are more experienced with ghosts. They will be fine," Castiel responds as he drops the bag of diner burgers on the table. "Dean insisted you eat something."

Iris groans, stretching out her aching back as she leans back in the chair, taking the offered burger. Chewing the bite in her mouth, her eyes turn from the book to the legal note pad she had wrote on. Iris decided to try and locate a symbol, or sigil, that is similar to the one marked on her chest, but even after reading through three, thick texts, she has found only a few that bare some semblance.

"Hey, Feathers, mind explaining these two? They kind of look the same, but what's with the symbol written in the center of this one?" she asks, pointing to the two sigils.

Castiel takes the legal pad from her, his blue eyes sharpening over them before he recognizes them, "This one is the marks Watchers are given. They govern over certain areas, keeping an eye out for any demonic activity that may become a threat to Heaven." Pointing to the second sigil with the mark at the center, he continues, "This is the mark of a Guardian. It is branded on a human-charge of a specific angel. Most often, the human carries a great destiny, and must be protected until their fate comes forth. It is considered a great honor to become a Guardian."

Iris rolls her eyes, "I don't understand. If this bond we have is so important than how come we haven't come across any record of it occurring before? I doubt I have any special destiny. Serious, how can someone, as screwed up in the head as I am, contribute to the greater good to the world?"

Castiel turns his gaze on the young woman, the trouble expression in her eyes making him realize she has not come to understand her importance so far, "We have no idea what your destiny may be, but I have already come to understand you have already made your mark. Far before the bond we share occurred."

"Oh yeah? How?"

Castiel muses over the question before remembering Dean's comment about her other friends, "You have trouble understanding emotional complexities on a personal level, but your other friends, they have mentioned to Dean how your logic carries a better understanding of human nature. You are, what some refer to as, a 'fresh pair of eyes'. You can look upon a moment of internal conflict someone is having, pick it apart and piece it back together. You are unbiased in your assessment of the situations you find others to be in."

Iris tilts her head, nibbling on her thumb nail thoughtfully before point at the angel, "You're losing me, Feathers. When has my logic ever helped anyone on a level of emotional confliction?"

"You have helped Sam understand he cannot make a life-changing decision without consulting his female companion about the truth of his past," Castiel points out, "You have made him see that hiding the truth will only threaten her safety, whether it be physically or emotionally."

"I thought that was obvious though? You shouldn't lie to those you care for," Iris retorts, crossing her arms over her chest, her teeth nibbling on her fingernails in a subconscious habit.

"What about Dean?" Castiel suggests, earning a quirked eyebrow in return, "Dean does not carry as much weight on his shoulders as he once did. You managed to make him understand what so many before him, Sam included, failed to do. He has accepted the past, but instead of letting it hinder him, he now carries a small trace of hope."

"Self-pity wasn't going to help him," Iris argues, "He was just going to make the same mistake over and over again."

"You have helped me," Castiel states curtly, watching as confusion flickers in her gaze, "You have erased doubt from my mind. I had been so affected by the idea of my Father abandoning Heaven and turning his back on us all, that doubt clouded my judgment. You, your words, so unattached to my inner turmoil, made me understand. While my Father is still not in Heaven, it didn't mean he abandoned us. If that were the case, I would still be dead."

"This doesn't make sense. So what if I helped you guys figure out the obvious facts? How is that important enough to bind an angel to me?" Iris questions, disbelief painting her features.

Castiel shakes his head, "I used to believe the bond accidentally placed between Dean and myself, that it was something of a convenience. I helped him when he needed an angel's help, and I needed him to stop the Apocalypse. All of it was out of convenience. It wasn't until we were in Purgatory that I realized the convenience we shared had grown into a friendship of sorts. I never had another fight so hard to save me, and it was that reason I let go," Iris feels her eyes widen at his admission, "He would not have escaped if I continued to hold on. He did not deserve to spend that year in Purgatory, so I let go, knowing that he would have done the same if our positions we reversed."

"So, you're saying, though we aren't sure of why the bond is here, eventually, the reasons will come to us?" Iris figures out slowly. Seeing Castiel nod, she smiles weakly, "I used to think Kay and the guys were my friends for convenience as well. I had been smart enough to get them on tours and spread them across the States, and they gave me an out from my parents, an escape from life. It wasn't until after Violet died, when I watched them come to the memorial service, that I realized they honestly cared. I never knew what friendship was supposed to be, but I figured, it is something that people are willing to make sacrifices for. They weren't upset when I decided to stay in Boulder. They were more understanding than I believed them to be."

"So, you kind of went from Watcher to Guardian in regards to Dean?" Iris asks after a moment of silence, "I mean, you always help Dean and Sam when they need it."

"I suppose in a sense of familiarity, yes, I have become somewhat of a Guardian, but it has never been solidified by a binding sigil," Castiel states.

Iris lets out a mix between a huff and a hum, "Interesting. So, these Guardians? They brand their human charges?"

"Charge. Singular. Guardians can only ever have a single charge," Castiel corrects.

Flashing her angelic friend an annoyed look, she continues, "So, is it possible to find a human charge to a Guardian? Maybe they can figure out what this symbol," Iris places a hand against the center of her chest, "means."

Castiel's eyes flicker with surprise at her thoughtfulness, "It is possible. Guardians are difficult to find. Though, the human charge would bare a mark similar to your own, the amount of Grace the charge would have is not at the same level. Unless...unless the Guardian had a reason to grant so much Grace to a human."

"So, you're saying, while finding the human charge would be easy, it depends on the amount of Grace the human bares?" she questions, humming slightly.

Castiel stands from the seat, "If you do not mind, I will try to seek out any information regarding our bond. I will return within the allotted time."

Iris barely gets a chance to respond before the angel flutters out of this realm. Rolling her eyes at the abruptness, she leaves the table and slides into her bed. Plugging in her laptop, she begins searching for any clues to the brands.

* * *

Returning to the hotel room, Castiel's eyes immediately locates Iris sitting cross-legged on her bed, typing something on her laptop. She greets him softly, her eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"Did you find anything?" she asks, before a video-call invite pops up on her screen.

Whatever Castiel is about to say is cut off by Iris's eyes widening, "What the Hell happened?"

Making his way over to view the screen, he feels his own eyes widening at the sight of a multi-color-haired woman, her round face covered in a deep red substance and a frantic, but irritated, look upon her face, "I promise you, it isn't real!"

A sigh of relief escapes Iris's lips, before she cocks her pierced eyebrow, "That isn't answering my question."

"Who's your friend?" the woman respond, her gaze moving over Castiel.

"This is Cas. Cas, this is my friend, Kay. What happened?" Iris questions once more.

"Well, DZ and our resident Jester decided to collaborate on the show's prank. They tampered with the club's sprinkler system and mixed the water with theatrical blood," Kay replies.

Iris closes her eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips, "Right, because pulling a fire alarm, as well as tampering with the water supply to it, is a federal offense."

"Yeah, well, they got off lightly. The fine is pretty steep, and they are not allowed out of their cell until it is paid off. We have to be in Sacramento within two days," Kay states, running a hand over her red-painted face.

Iris giggles lightly, "Alright. Go ahead and take what you need, but make sure those two return the same amount when they can."

"You are awesome. Cas, it was nice meeting, hopefully next time it will be in person. Now, I have to bail two dumb asses out of jail and attempt not to get thrown in one for homicide," Kay says, giving a two-fingered salute before the video call is ended.

Castiel looks over at Iris, "Your friends are quite..."

"The idiots?"

"Different," Castiel suggests, earning a giggle from the woman.

"You have no idea."

* * *

**Thanks to everyone that reviewed!**

**winterfellsfallenangel: Thanks for your review. Yes, dear, Tim Curry is quite the...horrific little guy. Although, I absolutely LOVED him in Rocky Horror Picture Show. Dr. Frakenfurter! I'm glad you enjoyed the humanized moment.  
**

**SingerGirl1645: I'm glad you enjoy my story. Thanks!  
**

**watergoddesskasey: Thanks again, luv!  
**

**Kit-Cat99: Yes, a prank on the Winchester's is always amusing. Yes, I definitely look forward to tonight's episode! YAY FOR CAS!  
**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Thanks again!  
**

**P.S. I will not be reviewing again until after tonight's episode. I want to incorporate the season's progression into my story, as well as add in moments between the episodes. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!  
**

**Until Next Time!  
**


	9. Chapter 9: Secret Fears

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

**P.S. THIS IS ANOTHER NON-HUNT MOMENT! I am hoping to tie in the chapter following this one into tonight's Episode. This is a moment between Iris and Castiel, as they try to find any information about the bond placed on them.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nine  
**_Secret Fears_

* * *

Iris slides out of the back seat of the Impala, following Dean and Castiel to the second car, where Sam was in the process of cuffing Mrs. Tran to the steering wheel. A small bout of nerves tingles along her muscles, having never dealt with a demon before. She recalls all of the Winchester training from months ago as she listens to Dean's plan. Feeling a subtle sensation of hatred, she peers over at Castiel to see him staring at the large factory building. Moving to stand by his side, she mirrors his stare, looking over the pipes and generators.

"I'm going to go with Sam to get the humans out," Feeling the stare suddenly burning into the side of her head, she continues, "I am not experienced enough with demons, and will be no help with this Crowley. I can help Sam get the humans to safety."

"I do not like the thought of you going in there alone," Castiel states.

Iris smiles humorlessly, "I'm not going to be alone, Feathers."

"Demons are not like ghosts or vampires," the angel says, staring blankly at the side of her head, "I am not comfortable with you going in there without me."

The proverbial light bulb flickers on in her head. Her fake smile softens into a genuine one as she moves her gaze to Castiel. This would be the first Hunt they've both been on, where they would be fighting away from each other. She had never had someone act so protective, someone that cared for her safety. She had always been the strong one, when it came to her and her sister. Awkwardly, Iris reaches up and pats Castiel's shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Don't worry about me. I don't know anyone else I'd trust with my life than Sam," Iris states, feeling another stare burning in the back of her head.

Nodding curtly at her, Castiel glances at someone over her shoulder, "Stay safe."

Iris watches as the angel makes his way to Dean's side, Sam in the process of handing Dean the demon knife. Giving Mrs. Tran a small, half-smile, Iris follows Sam as the four of them enter the facility. Climbing down a flight of stairs, Iris casts Castiel a small glance as he follows Dean down the opposite corridor. Silently, the youngest Winchester and Iris find themselves spying on a group of demons, protecting a door. Sharing a glance, Iris nods before Sam moves from their hiding space. An odd, almost sadistic smirk tugs on Iris's lips as Sam sets off the bomb, her eyes taking in the golden-orange blast as the demons roast in a fiery blast.

Stepping out of her hiding spot, Iris lets out a long, drawn-out whistle, "Wow. Mrs. Tran sure knows how to make a kick ass bomb."

Sam turns a curious look on the young woman, grinning despite the serious moment, "You have a fascination with explosives, don't you?"

"I'm _so_ sorry I actually enjoyed my Chemistry classes," Iris quips as Sam begins to pick the lock to the door, "I can't help it. You should have seen me and Vi during Independence Day."

Sam snorts humorously as he pushes open the door. Iris instinctively bulks at the stench of decay and sight of blood splattered throughout the room. Groaning softly, she makes a mental note not to get on this Crowley's bad side. Hearing Sam call out softly, she turns her gaze to see a group of people lifting their heads from behind the octagonal table. Seeing a boy, no older than six, peering out from around the base of the table, Iris shares a meaningful glance with Sam, who nods.

"We're here to help you. Come on. We can get you out of here," Sam states.

Taking the front of the group, Sam leads them through the complex as Iris heads up the rear. Swallowing the fear hammering in her chest and making its way up her throat, Iris tries to focus on something else.

"Am I going home now, Miss?"

Iris blinks at the sudden small voice, causing her to look down at the boy, "As soon as we get you out of here, and we can insure your safety, you'll be back with your parents in no time."

A broad smile spreads across his lips, soft brown eyes brightening in a manner only ever seen in the innocence of children, "Are you guys superheroes?"

Hearing Sam cough in order to cover up his laughter, Iris giggles softly at the boy, "No. We're just a bit above-average people dedicated to helping people like you."

A strangled yell sounds, and seeing the boy's eyes widen, Iris whirls around to see a black-eyed man standing behind her.

* * *

A rather weakened Castiel follows Dean out of the building, both of them watching as an unbound Mrs. Tran rushes toward her son, looking over him for any injuries additional to his severed finger. Seeing the reunion, the angel's impossibly blue eyes travels over the area, seeking out his bound-human. As his gaze lands on her, he feels his features soften a fraction at the sight of her sitting on the front hood of the Impala, a small boy curled into her side. Taking notice of her paler than normal face and an ugly red mark around her neck, he makes his way over to them.

"-can't wait for you to get back home."

Castiel watches as the little boy looks up at her, "Will you take me home?"

"If that's what you want," Iris murmurs gently, her fingers running through his bangs. "We have to wait for my friends, make sure everyone is safe. Then, if you really want, I'm sure I can escort you home."

The sight of this exchange startles Castiel. Iris had been quite adamant about not being good with children, yet she clearly carries the maternal traits bestowed within women. As dark green eyes look up, Iris smiles weakly at him before murmuring softly to the boy. Climbing down from the front hood, Iris leads the boy to the group.

"Iris!" Dean greets, relieved to see her alright.

Ignoring the feel of someone staring at her, Iris smiles stiffly as she motions to the boy, "This is Aaron. The boy that was kidnapped from the playground. He is requesting that we bring him back to his parents."

Having a soft spot of kids, Dean kneels down to the boy's height, "We would love to get you back to your parents, but we can't," Seeing the saddened, frantic gleam in the boy's eyes, Dean feels his own eyes widen, "I meant, the guys and I have stuff to do, but Iris here can make sure you get home safe." Dean stands up, looking over at Castiel, "You think you can...use your mojo to get the kid back to his parents?"

Castiel nods slowly, an odd feeling creeping over him. Something is bothering his bound-human, and he can see it in her reaction. What happened back in the building? Clearing his thoughts, he touches both the boy and Iris. Within a blink of an eye, the two chained-by-Fate adults and Aaron find themselves standing in front of a cottage like house, in a neighborhood of similar, cookie-cutter houses.

"Aaron? Oh God, is that you!?"

At the sound of his mother's frantic voice, Aaron releases Iris's hand before racing to the woman rushing her way from the house. Watching the familiar embrace, Iris tilts her head as she observes the reaction. Aaron's mother stares at him in a manner she has seen Dean stare at Sam. Tender, stern and full of worry. Tears of relief pools in the woman's eyes, but she stands up after Aaron motions toward them.

"Y-You guys saved my son?"

Nodding, Iris had not been expecting a sudden tight embrace of the tearful woman. Awkward and unsure how to respond, Iris reaches up and stiffly pats the woman's back. Murmurs of thanks and praises of God whispers into her ears, but Iris reaches down and pulls herself out of the woman's embrace.

"Aaron is a special boy," Iris exclaims gently, "You keep an eye on your son. If anything else is to happen to him, or if you have any strange visitors, call this number," Iris says as she jots a phone number down on a recite.

"Thank you, both, so much," she sobs with relief as she takes the paper.

Nodding, Iris ruffles Aaron's hair in a playful manner before following Castiel down the sidewalk. Once out of public view, Iris feels Castiel's hand on her forehead. Opening her eyes, she finds herself in the backseat of the Impala, Dean nearly jumping out of his skin and hitting the brakes.

"Damn it, Cas! We've talked about this!"

Looking away from the familiar exchange between the two friends, Iris finds her gaze meeting the dark hazel eyes of Sam. Giving him a small smile, she is relieved when he returns it.

* * *

"Cas out looking again?" Sam's voice pulls Iris's attention from the books.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell him what happened back there?" Sam asks, sitting down on the foot of her bed.

Iris sighs, closing the book, "Have you seen how... determined Cas is about getting this bond removed?" Sam nods, "I have a feeling telling him about what happened might cause him to become obsessed with getting rid of it. What happened...it shouldn't...it isn't normal for a human."

"Sooner or later, you two will come to a decision to get the bond removed. Why do I get the feeling you are hesitant about searching for a way to remove it?" Sam asks.

"If I answer you, can you promise, swear to me, that this conversation won't leave this room?" Seeing him nod, Iris smiles weakly, "Since this bond happened, since you three fell into my life, I have felt more in such a short time than I have in my entire life. I don't want to lose that."

"Iris, no matter what happens, you know you're kind of a part of this family now," Sam states, giving her a small grin, "I never had the chance to play the older sibling."

Giggling, Iris looks up from her hands, "Even so, I...I am not sure if it was a fluke. It didn't do any harm on anyone."

After a moment of silence, Iris sighs, "Hey, Sam? Do you think you can get me all the info you have on any angel you've met?" Seeing his curious look, she shrugs, "Castiel is looking for the human counterpart, so I thought I should try to angel counterpart."

"Most of the angels we've come across are dead," Sam points out.

Iris quirks an eyebrow, "So was Cas."

Nodding in agreement, Sam sets out to write down everything he can remember about the angels he, and his brother, had come across.

* * *

Left alone, Iris stares up at the darkened ceiling of her hotel room. She knew it was wrong, to keep a secret, but something was off with Castiel. He seemed to be even more and more obsessed with getting rid of their bond, and she didn't want to admit out loud that it offended her a bit. What was her reason? Why is she important to the Winchester's and their angel friend? Who cares if she can make them see the proverbial light?

Rubbing her temples, she sits upright, stretching her arms over her head before staring at the legal pad. Pages upon pages of angelic symbols, names and personality traits of various angels, Iris has poured herself and her time into these pages. Nothing is catching. Nothing is registering. Maybe this search really was a dead end? Maybe it will turn out to be a hopeless endeavor? Flipping to the symbols, her index finger traces over the Guardian sigil. It appears to be familiar. She knows she's seen it somewhere, but where?

Inhaling deeply, she drags her pen along a piece of paper. Mimicking the symbol mocking her in the back of her mind, she draws the circles, the angels and the Enochian symbols decorating within it. Opening her eyes, she glances down at the symbol, eyes widening. Scanning over the list of names Sam gave her the words _three years_ stands out to her the most.

Stupid son of a bitch, Iris curses inwardly as she picks up her cell phone. Plugging in a familiar number, Iris listens as a familiar voice answers, "What can I do for you?"

"Does the name Winchesters, or Castiel, mean anything to you?" Hearing the curse on the other end, Iris fumes inwardly, "You and I need to have a little chat, old friend."

* * *

**Dun, dun, dun!**

**Thank you so much! I absolutely loved the episode last night! I have so many theories that it is killing my brain! Anyway!**

**I'm to lazy to give individual thank you's today, kind of pressed for time. Sincerely, thank you to everyone that reviewed and all of my little Minions! Tell me what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10: Christmas Surprises

**The Bond**

**Summary:**

Iris Watson is something of a rare breed when it comes to the human species. For all purpose, she is perfectly average. She enjoys the little things in life, has hobbies in photography and music. She comes from a middle class family, with familial issues all too normal. There is but one thing that sets her apart from other people.

Something even she isn't aware of until the form of a battered man in a tarnished trench coat passes out on her front porch.

Being pulled into a world filled with supernatural creatures had been the last thing Iris ever thought would happen.

Though, Fate itself is a fickle thing.

**Author's Note:**

Yet another beginning to another plot bunny running through my head that I just need to get out. Please, leave a review. This is a work in progress, and I'm not particularly sure how it will play out yet. Each chapter title is associated with a type of bond people share with each other. Something that connects them in a way. In this story, every character, no matter how minimal, shares a certain level of a bond. This will be a slow building Cas/OC fic, as I want to focus on the way many people grow comfortable and familiar with each other. Let me know what you all think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Supernatural, but Iris and any OC's you might see are of my own creation. I will most likely take requests in supernatural creatures that will be used in future chapters and confronted by team Free Will (Winchesters and Cas). Requests before the chapter is written will be foot-noted at the end of the prior chapter, so I encourage your ideas.

Thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter Ten  
**_Christmas Surprises_

* * *

"I thought you knew we don't celebrate holidays," Dean states, watching the hope slowly dim in his friend's green eyes.

Iris looks down. Christmas had been the only holiday that carried meaning to her. Memories of putting a smile on her little sister's face. Memories of snowball fights, snow angels and endless amounts of hot chocolate. Their parents usually attended some high-brow charity function during the holiday, leaving them on their own. It made living in their childhood house bearable during the holidays.

"You wish to visit your friend Mac," Castiel states suddenly.

Iris brings her gaze from the floor, smiling weakly, "Mac is the only real connection I have left to Violet's memory," She ignores the curious gleam in their eyes, her own gaze glazing over with thought, "I had been tolerable of Mac in the beginning. He often protected Violet when I couldn't. He kept an eye on her while I was away. I...I just don't want to leave him by himself, knowing that Christmas was Violet's favorite holiday."

The two brothers share a glance before a sigh leaves Dean's lips, "Fine. We'll spend Christmas in Boulder, but we leave out the day after."

Thanking them softly, Iris slips into the bathroom. Leaning against the sink, she finds her reflected gaze, still feeling the torrent of disbelief. Would anything in her life be easy? Would she ever be able to accept the idea behind the revelation she received a week ago? Had her life always been so twisted with lies? Is anything real? She snorts to her reflection.

"This friendship thing is probably all a lie too," she spits at her reflection.

Isn't that true? If she had never helped Castiel in the first place, this friendship would never have happened. She would still be home, living a life she had grown accustomed to. She wouldn't be bothered with the series of emotional turmoil the Winchester's bring to the plate. She wouldn't feel the torrent of grief and guilt.

A knock sounds on the door, "Dean insists we hit the road now."

Inhaling deeply, Iris buries the emotional chaos within her and flashes her angel friend a smile as she exits the bathroom.

* * *

Pulling up the driveway of Iris's house, the four pile out of the car as Iris approaches the front door. Entering welcoming warmth, Iris feels a sad smile form on her lips as she inhales the familiar aroma of hot chocolate. Hearing the guys follow her hesitantly, Iris takes in the green garnish decorating the banister of the staircase, the sparsely decorated tree, and the small amount of presents sitting beneath the tree. Leading them to the kitchen, she is greeted by the sight of Mac placing mugs of fresh, milk-brewed hot chocolate on the island.

"Nice to see you all in one piece," Mac greets, hazel eyes gleaming with good nature.

Catching sight of the clock on the wall, Iris sighs as she dismisses the drink, "Thanks, and while this is short notice, I need to head out for a short while."

The brothers and the angel turn startled gazes on her, Dean immediately asking, "What? We just arrived!"

"I know, but I need to go pay my sister my respects and pick something up. You think you can keep them company, Mac?" Iris asks, quirking an eyebrow, giving her friend a loaded look.

Mac grins widely in response to her look, "They will be fine. Go, do what you need to do, but hurry back. We have much to talk about."

Confused, the trio watches their friend leave the house.

"Shouldn't worry so much about her," Mac states, gaining their attention, "Ever since Violet turned sixteen, she always got a tattoo the day before Christmas Eve. The only time she didn't was the Christmas before she died."

"Why the change of heart?" Sam asks curiously.

"She insisted that Iris needed to get one. Quite a beautiful piece if you ask me," Mac says, waving his left arm in the air mildly, "If you look close enough, you will see those swirled lines are actually old Celtic runes."

Castiel's eyebrows perk at this information, "Why would she get that tattooed to her body?"

"Violet drew them. She had quite an interest in languages. Took Latin one year just for the hell of it," Mac says, smiling at the memories, before he shakes his head.

"Can you explain the sudden guilt and despair Iris seems to be feeling?" Castiel asks suddenly.

Mac quirks an eyebrow in surprise, "You mean, you guys don't know? I admit, I was curious by the casual conversation."

Dean tenses at the suggestive tone, "What do you mean?"

* * *

Iris smiles to herself, thankful that something good came out of the trip. Carefully removing the packages from the compartment under her bike's seat, she head back up to the house. Inhaling the warm air as it breezes against her face, she giggles softly. It always felt good paying Violet's memorial stone a visit. Her thoughts freeze at the sight of three pairs of eyes glaring at her from the kitchen.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, carefully setting the two slim, slightly long, packages on the island as she pours herself some hot chocolate.

"You brought us here under false pretenses?" Hearing the dejected anger in Dean's voice, she feels her shoulders tense.

Turning her gaze on Mac, she hisses, "You told them?"

"Of course not, dearest," Seeing the genuine truth in her friend's gaze, she groans as she runs a hand through her bangs.

Turning to the trio, she smiles weakly, "It's not what you-"

"You _lied_ to us. Again," Dean sneers, standing up from his seat, "Is anything you say really the truth, or just half-truths? You didn't bring us here to celebrate the holidays."

"Of course I did. Will you calm-"

Dean's fist bangs on the table, "No! You gave Sam so much shit about 'omission of the truth' bull, but you're so damn hypocritical, you think it's okay for you to leave out truths with us? Have you ever told us the complete truth?"

"Dean, will you stop yelling at me?" Iris tilts her head, looking to the others for help, but even the sight of Castiel's stoic gaze causes her to sigh, "I see. Well, if you all are going to jump to conclusions, you know where the door is. Mac, I'm afraid our conversation will have to wait," A curious feeling coils in the pit of her stomach, Iris's hand immediately pressing against it. Overwhelmed by the oppressive influx of the strange feeling, Iris steps backward, "I-I don't think I will be up for that talk."

Dean's hand lashes out, grabbing her arm, firmly keeping her from escaping the kitchen, "You have lied about your name. You've lied about who you really are. You are most likely hiding other things and now you lie about this? About wanting to spend some holiday together? You know, I thought you were starting to care for us, like we cared for you, but maybe I was just hopeful that someone wasn't out to shit on our lives once more."

Iris's eyes widen at the callous words. Is that what he thought of her? Due to one misunderstanding? Something he won't allow her to explain? Seeing a drop of water hit the tiled floor, Iris tilts her head in a baffled manner before looking up at the ceiling. Surely it is too cold for rain. Maybe there is a leaky pipe somewhere? Inhaling, she curses the cold wind for the sniffled sound that resonates through the sudden silence. Shaking her head, she carefully yanks her arm from Dean's grip, stepping back a few paces.

"As I said," Iris pauses, clearing the hoarse, broken sound that echoes from her lips, "You can go if that's what you believe. I..." Licking her trembling lips, she looks away as Mac's figure suddenly springs from the chair, "I am sorry for the inconvenience I have caused you all."

* * *

A heavy silence falls over the kitchen as the occupants watch Iris's somber figure retreat from the room. Sam, opens his mouth to speak up for Iris, but closes it at the sight of Mac making his way over to the two packages left on the counter of the island. Wordlessly, he slides them both to the Winchester brothers. Hesitantly, they simultaneously open the packages and stare wide-eyed at the two daggers nestled in each of their boxes. The handles appeared carved out of an Ashe tree, the very base inscribed with their initials. The pure silver blades gleam with symbols.

"See the symbol embellishment on the hilts?" Mac states, pointing out the gold symbol on one hilt and the black symbol on the opposing one, "The one with the golden symbol is a demon knife, the other, fashioned with Enochian banishing sigils."

It takes a moment, as both brothers look over the new weapons, before they both tense. Slowly, turning to face Mac, they take note of Castiel already staring at the man intensely. Instead of showing any trace of fear, Mac appears to be amused.

"Oh, you Winchester's sure are quick on the uptake," Turning to Castiel, Mac smirks, "Although, I'm a bit hurt you don't recognize me," The angel's eyes widen as Mac's light hazel eyes flash an impossible blue, the familiar Grace tickling at Castiel's senses, "Uh oh, looks like little Cassie figured me out."

"Balthazar," Castiel says, and the brothers were sure if he has been human, it would have sounded more shocked, "How is this possible?"

"I'd ask you the same, but we both know that answer to that," the accent bleeding through his words.

Dean shakes his head, "I don't understand. Is this why we are here? Did Iris know?"

"Not until a few days ago, and she wasn't sure which angel I was," Balthazar's eyes soften, "You see, after I died, I found myself waking up in this body," Balthazar motions to Mac's body, "Andrew Macintosh is a new vessel so to speak. With it, I gained all the knowledge of his relationship with Iris Watson, and more importantly, her sister Violet."

"Why would Violet be of importance?" Sam questions.

"It seems as though our Father carried a bit of a sense of humor. To prove my worth as an angel of the Lord, I was made a Guardian of Andrea Violet Hastings," Balthazar states, his eyes growing dim.

"A lot of good you did there," Dean retorts.

Castiel on the other hand realized what his fellow angel was saying, "Your charge was meant to die. Why?" Balthazar doesn't need to respond, the look he gives Castiel is enough, "Violet had to die in order to have Iris be here, for when I came. This bond, Iris and I share, it has been Fated for years."

Balthazar nods slowly, "Once my dear Violet passed, I had been given a chance to return to Heaven, but...it did not feel right, leaving Iris in such a state. I tried to help her cope, but the girl has a knack for closing herself off."

"Why Iris? What makes her so special? Why is she bestowed a bond that carries no record of its existence?" Castiel urges, wanting the answers so badly.

Balthazar shakes his head, "I wish I knew. She only knew of me because of the mark I gave her sister three years ago."

"That would explain her over-zealous study of the Guardian sigils. Balthazar, do you have any idea of who might know of this bond?" Castiel asks.

The other angel shakes his head, "The only one's that would carry such knowledge would be higher up the ranks."

"The archangels are dead," Sam states.

"Ah, yes," Balthazar gasps mockingly, grinning at them, "But then again, so were we. It seems as though God is choosing to bring some of us back, and it appears to be centered around Iris Watson, though no one can be sure why."

"Then we need to figure out if God has brought back any other angels," Dean comments, standing up.

The three, already mentally planning their next tasks, hears the deep clearing of Balthazar's through, the cheerful angel grinning at them again, "Yes, as lovely as this sudden revelation is, I believe you have something that needs to be fixed."

Seeing the confusion, Balthazar sighs before pointing up at the ceiling.

* * *

Blank green eyes stare at the single droplet of water resting on the pad of her index finger. Had it been worth it? Feeling such anguish over harsh words? To be thought of as someone so lowly? Did she do something wrong? Maybe, it's just her that is wrong? It isn't like she fits anywhere.

"Iris?"

Curling her finger back into the palm of her hand, Iris turns her black gaze up to the trio standing in the doorway of her room. Inhaling deeply, she stands from her bed, bowing her head curtly, "I believe I made a mistake."

"We know. We-"

"I believed I could be anything else other than what I've always been," Iris states curtly, cutting Dean's response short, "I promise to never hold any information that may come to me in the future, regarding supernatural occurrences, from you."

"Iris, it's fine. I over-"

"I apologize, Castiel," the angel tilts his head at the use of his full angelic name, as green eyes turn on him, "I have not been as devoted to finding a way to dissolve our bond, not as devoted as you have been. I will strive to do better." Iris doesn't wait to turn her gaze on Sam, "I apologize for the hypocrisy I have shown in regards to truthful notions."

"Iris, will you stop?" Dean steps closer, watching her tense instinctively, "Will you accept my apology?"

"You have no reason to apologize, Dean," Iris states as if it is obvious, "You were righteous in your anger for my negligence in offering the truth."

"Why are you speaking in such a manner?" Castiel wonders aloud, trying to feel anything from their bond.

Sam, having remained silent through the exchange, steps forward and shoves pass his brother. Without saying a word, the tallest of the two brothers embraces their female companion. Odd? Iris did not expect this. As Sam pulls away, he looks back to his brother and their angel friend for a brief moment before nudging Iris for her attention.

"Lying just means your one-step closer to being more...imperfect," Sam states.

Awareness floods Dean. Remembering the conversations with her friends at the bar. Iris is bound to make mistakes because she's never truly lied before. She's...trying to be more human and less than a puppet. Dean takes a step forward and places a firm hand on her shoulder. A silent apology flashes in his gaze and he waits for her to recognize it. Slowly, the empty void in her eyes fades and they soften gently.

Castiel, pleased as the emotions flood through their bond, finds a curious feeling wash over his mind. He had never met a human that can remove all traces of emotional stress from their facial features, let alone their mind or their soul. A small dose of affection causes him to break his thoughts and he meets softened green eyes.

What about Iris makes her so important? What is her destiny?

* * *

**Yes, I'm evil. I'm stopping here, because my fingers and toes are starting to freeze over. lol...too damn cold for my hot-blooded self.**

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